2nd Visit
by Terryllennium
Summary: To Begin... A new start to an old tale left unfinished. The castle of eternal dreams has crumbled, leaving behind visions of an unrealized enigma. One must reread what was written, forget what came before. Unlearn the past to find the future. Then...
1. Episode 1

The loud sounds of chalk being scribbled against the hot pavement of a warm Tokyo day could be heard easily over the strange, almost alien noises made by the summer locusts and the cars passing on the nearby street. A long, winding and irregular line of undecipherable equations lay stretched across the dirty, dusty concrete, almost invisible against its grayish surface. At the end of this bizarre collection of odd numbers, letters and symbols that apparently had no significance to any passing by, a man with nearly shoulder-length hair wearing pale blue hospital pajamas continued to scrawl out the remaining figures locked within his mind. His bangs and tresses were prematurely white, a sign of the price that he had to pay to learn the truth; the price he had to pay to stop a menace born of a child's guilt and paranoia.

He stared down blankly at what he was writing, beads of sweat across his forehead, eyes unfocused and dazed. The equation neared its conclusion, knowledge of a past that had to be remembered if it didn't want to be repeated. Knowledge of his past as both the problem and the problem-solver. Deep down, he should have known that facing off against his enemy and using the same tactics would yield nothing but a stalemate. But he had to try. He had to do something. He had to fight. Because no one else did. No one else _could_.

Without warning, the equation had come to its end. He had drawn out everything that he had remembered. He had carefully scribbled down everything that he had learned, even his mistakes in dealing with the problem. But the answer…the answer…

Maniwa looked up from the ground with a startled expression on his face. How could this be? He had calculated everything as he had known it. What did he forget? What had he not remembered? What had not _changed_? The answer… The reason… The truth learned… Nothing was adding up as it should. What had he not _remembered_? Down on the pavement below him, an empty space sat after the equal sign. The hand holding the chalk trembled as it hovered above that vacant spot on the pavement. Realization was dawning in his weary mind. Maniwa's eyes widened.

There…there were _two_ answers?

* * *

_As the opening chant of Himekami's_ **Kamigami no Uta** _begins, Maniwa comes to the end of his equation. The chant ends as he looks up with startled eyes, then everything goes white…only to start clearing up as the main music begins and the camera descends through the clouds to an overhead view of Portland, Oregon. The song picks up as we are treated to a typical busy day in downtown Portland – cars at stoplights, buses and lightrails moving to and from, children walking to school; people in general. Then the camera focuses in on a black-haired boy standing alone at a corner gazing down at a small picture in his hand. The light changes and he starts to walk across the street. Then the camera pans down to his shadow to show that it is that of Lil' Slugger. The focus is placed back on the boy as he walks past a dance studio with a Japanese girl bending and stretching inside. The focus goes to her as she continues with her exercises. Her eyes linger on a backpack in the corner, then stops as her mother comes down the stairs. The camera focuses on both their shadows to show that they are those of Lil' Slugger. As the camera pulls back to outside the dance studio, it refocuses on a gay couple as the stride by laughing and holding hands until they get to entrance of the coffee shop they were going to. The camera pans down to their shadows to show two Lil' Sluggers holding hands, then letting go and pulling them away from each other. The camera focuses back on the couple as they enter the coffee shop. The camera then pulls away in a blur of motion and slows to focus on the interior of a classroom were a nun is waving around a ruler menacingly at her students. Her shadow shows Lil' Slugger waving around his crooked bat. The camera pulls up and away from the class and goes through the window to focuses on a car going by and stays with it. Switching to an inside view, we see a woman with close-cropped blond hair talking on a cell phone as she guides the car toward the police precinct. An outside camera view shows the car pulling up in the parking lot of the station and stopping. The camera then focuses on the pavement as the car door opens and we see the shadow of Lil' Slugger as the one under the woman's feet as she gets out. As the music nears its conclusion, the camera recenters on downtown again and shows that everyone walking around has shadows of Lil' Slugger. The camera then pulls back into an overhead view of Portland. The song comes to an end as the camera pulls away even further to reveal that the entire city is covered with a giant shadow of a laughing Lil' Slugger. Everything fades to black and the Japanese Hiragana for _**PARANOIA AGENT**_ appear and glow red with the words _**2ND VISIT **_under them in English. Then they too fade to black._

This opening montage was done to the music of **Himekami's** excellent **_Kamigami no Uta_** **(Song of the Gods) **from his _'Best of…'_ Collection.

* * *

**E P I S O D E**

**O N E

* * *

**

A disembodied voice echoed over the empty airwaves of the late night. It was hollow and tinny, full of both madness and despair. It sounded desperate, unhinged. Like it had nothing left to believe in. Like the world had abandoned it.

"_Falsehoods spoken out loud. Our media._ _Faceless conversation. Impersonal responses. Untrue affections. Voiceless meetings in the iridescent glow of chatrooms. Lies. Deceit. Blame. Apathy. Excuses. Avoidance. Beginning or end. Which is it?"_

The bodiless voice paused in its mad ranting. The silence was eerie and static laced. The radio transmission was weak and did not carry as well as it should have. It seemed on the verge of dying. The wattage of carrier signal was getting lower and lower. The static was growing steadily quieter and quieter. But something else could be heard, barely over the static. A voice. The same voice as before. Low and whispering, its ghostly presence echoed out only three words into the silence of the night.

"_The Cycle Ends?"_

The static rose and began to mask out the words.

"_The Cycle Repeats?"_

The voice was disappearing, being steadily drawn again into the blackness of a noiseless night.

"_The Cycle Ends?"_

The static suddenly rose louder, and a high-pitched whine could be heard in the place of the message. But it had been delivered. The warning had been declared. The words still echoed distantly in the static. The beginning or the end. Which would it be?

"_The Cycle Repeats...?"_

_**oOo**_

**THE TELEVISION**

"_Hello, I'm Alicia Warren and this is the KATU 2 News at Ten. _**Our Top Story Tonight…**_"_

**THE RADIO**

"…_The youth was brought in on suspicions of attempted breaking and entering. When questioned by authorities, the only answer he would give was, 'I needed it for the festival'. Local police are still determining whether to release the teen into his parent's custody or hold him until charges are pressed. On another note…"_

**THE POLICE PRECINT**

"…_Total whackjob."_

"_Who?"_

"_That nut they brought in earlier, that's who!"_

"_Think so?"_

"_Jeez, are you fucking stupid or what! You didn't see him twitching and talking to himself? If nothing else, his ass is going straight to the loony bin!"_

"_He was the one that government man was…oh shit, here they come…"_

**THE NEWSPAPER**

_The Asian Reporter Headline: Shinjitsu No Kinen Has Arrived! Celebrate the Second Year Anniversary this month with quiet prayers and silent memories of those loved ones who were lost…_

**THE COFFEE SHOP**

"…_Is really hard to believe. I mean two years since it supposedly 'happened' and the Japanese living here are still going through with this ridiculous shit! They need to just get over it and move on…"_

**THE INTERNET CHATROOM**

_UNSEEN510: hey! didja hear?_

_maromi's right hand: what?_

_UNSEEN510: satoshi was arrested! can't believe u hadn't heard…_

_maromi's right hand: what a idiot! he say anything?_

_UNSEEN510: nothin we hafta worry bout! sides what could teh police do?_

_maromi's right hand: true dat. so u goin to do it or not? aint gonna puss out are ya?_

_UNSEEN510: u just throw me a punk card?_

_maromi's right hand: yup!_

_UNSEEN510: jus gotta pick up some other things an i'll be ready ;)_

_maromi's right hand: LMAO! u better make sure :)_

**THE MAGAZINE COVER**

_FINALLY! The Mary Bennett novel, 'Reverie Hill' has been released! See how we rate it inside!_

**THE HOLDING CELL**

"…_Ends. The Cycle Repeats. The Cycle Ends. The Cycle Repeats. The Cycle Ends. The Cycle Repeats. The Cycle Ends. The Cycle Repeats. The Cycle Ends. The Cycle…"_

_**oOo**_

"Jason! Jason, get down here! Your breakfast is getting cold! Jason! I'm not going to tell you again! Hurry up, or you'll be late for school!"

His father was on the verge of screaming. He could tell. His voice had been steadily rising in tone and volume. Each time he called from downstairs for him to eat his breakfast or to hurry up, it was louder than the last. Obviously, his father's patience was wearing thin. Very thin.

"What the hell are you doing up there! It doesn't take all morning to get your damned clothes on, Jason! Get a move on! I don't want to get another call at my office about you being late again! So hurry up and get your ass dressed and be quick about it!"

His father's voice quivered just on the edge of outright screaming. It brought an uncharacteristic grin to Jason's lithe face. Any amount of grief that he could heap upon his father did that to him. Brought out that Cheshire Cat-like grin that wouldn't fade for hours. But eventually, the weight and burden of the world and his existence in it would come crashing down on him; burying the grin under layer upon layer of angst-ridden depression. How strange was it then that the man whom he so loathed just happened to also be his only source of joy and happiness in the cruel joke that was his life. God, it seemed, was not without a warped sense of humor. Casting a glance over to his computer desk, Jason's eyes fell indifferently upon an oblong and brownish object propped there. Leaning against his rickety old chair was a wooden bat, it's blunt end resting heavily atop the carpeted floor of his room.

"JASON!"

That was it. That's what he had been waiting for. That oh so obvious crack in his father's parental omniscience which granted him such pleasure to expose. Afterall, the man prided himself on being a model of calm and reserve. Jason hated that about him. He hated that his father was such a patient man. It was that patience; that calm and reserve that had driven his mother into the arms of another man. His father's composure and logic-minded thinking had created a rift between them, which led her to sleep around and in turn led to a very bitter divorce about twenty-two years down the road. Jason had only been thirteen then. Just two years ago. And from that day forward, he had felt completely dead on the inside. All because of his father's inability to truly allow himself to live in a world of warmth and emotion. All because his father thought it better to hide his feelings behind a wall of diffidence and reason instead of expressing them to the woman he was supposed to love. It was for that reason Jason enjoyed pushing his father to his limits of patience and tolerance. It was payback. As simple as that.

The sound of dull, muted footsteps on the carpeted stairs signaled the complete end of his father's almost limitless resolve.

"Dammit Jason," Kenneth Bennett said forcefully as he pushed the half closed bedroom door open fully. "I thought I told you to get a move on! Why in the hell are you just lying there on the bed! You know you've got school in less than fifteen minutes?"

Jason shrugged his slim shoulders indifferently.

"So."

His father gazed down at him with cold, analytical eyes. Not the eyes of a warm and caring individual who wondered why his son acted or dressed like he was going to his own funeral, not the eyes of a man who really questioned why Jason had no friends and spent all of his time locked up in his room, not the eyes of a father but the eyes of a man weighing and measuring him; reading into what his next words or actions were going to be. No, not the eyes of a father who gave a damn; just the eyes of a cold man who had as much compassion and love as a grocery store price scanner.

"'So'? Is that all you have to say for yourself? _'So'_?"

Jason brushed a few strands of black-dyed hair from his face and looked over at his father with dull, hazel eyes.

"Why Dad, is there something else that I'm _supposed_ to say?"

Kenneth Bennett raised a hand up to his wired-rimmed glasses and pulled them off. Rubbing at the bridge of his slender nose with a forefinger and thumb, he shook his head with that damnable composure he was all too well known for.

"No," he said stiffly, placing the glasses back on his worn and weighty face. "I think that you've already said enough. Do what you want. I don't have the time to deal with this right now."

Jason snorted out a bitter laugh as he pushed himself up from the bed.

"That's just it Dad, you never have the time to deal with _anything_."

Rising to his feet, he grabbed up his backpack from the computer chair where it had been carelessly draped and walked past his father without saying another word. The wooden bat that had been leaning there fell noiselessly to the carpeted floor, its blunt and now bent end pointed squarely in the direction of Jason's father.

_**oOo**_

Jason walked down the cracked pavement of the sidewalk unhurriedly. The euphoric feeling of angering his father had come and went a lot quicker than he was used to. And in turn, had left him feeling even emptier than usual. Just why did his father not give a damn about anything he did? Did the man not care? What would he have to do to get his goddamned attention? Kill someone? Would that finally make him show some kind – _any_ kind – of emotion? A long time ago, Jason realized that he didn't care what feelings his father showed, just as long as he showed them. Hate, anger, laughter, sadness, love…anything to prove to him that he cared about his son's life and the things he did with it. Something other than that cold, logic-laced reason he was prone to draping himself in.

Eyes locked onto the sidewalk beneath his feet, Jason Bennett didn't try to hold back the feelings of loneliness and despair that had washed over him. Questioning his father's seeming lack of concern for his well being always changed his mood to something more befitting of his outward appearance. Black on black clothing, pierced ears, eyebrow and tongue, dyed jet-black hair that hung limply down to his somewhat frail-looking shoulders and no hint of happiness on his pasty, thin face. Jason was his father's complete opposite – thin where he was fat, delicate where he was robust, light-colored eyes where his were dark, and full of conflicting emotions of abandonment where his father show none. There was nothing that he shared in common with the man. Even their appearance didn't match up. There was much more of his mother in him than his father. Her smooth and lissome features definitely showed up more on his face than his dad's strong and rugged ones. He was more a part of her than he was of that man who called himself his father.

Abandonment. That was what he felt whenever he thought of her. His mother. The woman who had left him in the care of a man who didn't. But Jason couldn't hate her. He could _never_ hate her. It wasn't her fault that all of this had happened. It wasn't her fault that his father was so emotionally bottled up that his love for her had waned and flickered away like a dying candle. It wasn't her fault that he became a ghost to his family, spending more time at work than at home. It just wasn't her fault in any way he could think of. It was all his father's doing. All of it. No. Not all of it. There had been something else; something else just as responsible for all of this that he was going through. He barely remembered what had happened on that –

Without warning, something hard hit him from behind. Losing his balance, he stumbled to the ground and landed rigidly on his chest. That familiar feel of having the wind knocked out of him cramped up his stomach and forced quick gasps to escape from his partially open mouth.

"Hey freak, who said you could walk down _my_ street?"

Jason put his hands flat against the warm pavement of the sidewalk and tried to push himself up from the concrete he'd been walking on earlier. But something heavy added itself to the weight of his backpack and roughly shoved him back down. This time, he couldn't prevent his face from smacking against its coarse surface. He could feel his left cheek grinding into the uneven pavement, leaving small but noticeable scrapes on the soft skin there. He thought he felt something thump heavily against his left shoulder as jaw slacken against the warm sidewalk. Doing what he could to look, Jason could only see that one of his books had slipped free of his backpack and bounced out in front of his prone body.

_Is…is… It's not… Oh no… It is… It's her book! I have…I have to… I need…_

Trying to heft himself up again, that heavy feeling on his back pushed his body rudely back to the harsh ground beneath him. A shallow grunt escaped his lips.

"Did I say that you could get up, fag? Huh? Did I!"

Jason decided not struggle. What was the point anyway? All it would do was get him even more brutalized by these bullies. It wasn't like this didn't happen almost everyday, anyways. It would all be over soon. All he had to do was wait. And then, he could retrieve his book and resume his walk to school.

"Hah! Look at him Chris, ass all up in the air like he wants someone to fuck it! Man, you were right, he is a faggot! Maybe you should be nice and give him what he wants!"

_What I…want? What _do_ I want? Do I even know anymore? Do I even _care_ anymore? I want… I want… Book… I want my book back… I need my book back…_

"Yeah, I think I will give this freak what he wants. What do you think about that, fag? Huh? Do you want me to give it to you up the ass? Huh? Well, do you! You'd better answer me before you start to piss me off, bitch!"

_Am I gay? Is that why I feel so lost and conflicted all the time? Is that why I can't be happy? Will _that_ even make me happy? My book makes me happy…sometimes. It's my only link to her now. Why am I here? What's my reason for being? Why _am_ I here?_

A heavy hand wrapped itself around the side of his head and pushed down. Jason could feel the small pebbles on the sidewalk grind deeper and deeper into his cheek. Above him, he could hear both of the older boys laughing. In his right hand, he could feel something. It was cold and hard. It was deliverance from all the pain, all the worry and fear. It was…a way out.

_Why do I even bother? What's even the point of living if it's just going to bring more and more pain? Why can't…why can't there just be a way out for me? Why can't I just…escape?_

"What's wrong fag? Does it hurt? You gonna cry out for your mommy now? Ain't no one gonna help you, you little shit! No one cares about you! No one gives a damn! You're all fucking alone!"

_Is he right? Am I alone? I am. He _is_ right. I don't have anyone to depend on. No one to help me. Even she's gone now. But she had to because of him. I…I need a way out of…of this… Why can't…why can't someone…help…me…?_

The feeling in his right hand grew heavier, its weight bringing an odd sense of comfort to him. As it did, a disembodied voice echoed in his head.

_The Cycle Repeats…?_

Jason's hand twitched. The abuse continued. Chris and Ian laughed at him. He needed a way out. The feeling in his hand grew even heavier. The laughter became a mad roar in his ears. The world paled and discolored before his eyes. The pressure on the side of his head was getting worse. He needed a way out! Something solid fell into the palm of his hand. It felt like…like…like the handle of a bat. Suddenly, another sound touched his ears. It was light at first, barely noticeable, but it seemed to be growing in intensity. _He had to find a way out!_

_Skitch...skitch...skitch...skitch..._

It sounded like…like rollerblades. Was someone else coming up the sidewalk? Above him, the laughter dulled somewhat and the pressure on the back of Jason's head lessened. Instinctively, his right hand tightened around the handle of the bat. Somewhere deep in his mind, he knew that its color was golden and that it was bent at a forty-five degree angle near its blunt end.

_Skitch...skitch...skitch...skitch..._

The sound was growing closer. The sound was getting _louder_. Jason could feel the weight being pressed against his backpack begin to slacken as the laughter from Chris and Ian stopped abruptly. _What was happening?_ The bat in his hand grew warm, like someone else was gripping it also. A dark smile compressed Jason's lips.

_Skitch, skitch..._

"Who the hell are – "

_Whoosh. Crack. Thud._

"Wait, I'm sorry! I didn't know – "

_Whoosh. Crack. Thud._

_Skitch, skitch, skitch, skitch, skitch, skiiiiiiiitch..._

All at once, Jason knew that Chris and Ian wouldn't be bothering him anymore. In front of his prone and unmoving form, a young boy wearing a pair of golden rollerblades, military green shorts with cargo pockets, a gray hoodie over a long-sleeve black undershirt and a red baseball cap with three pins on it – an upside down peace sign, a yellow smiley face and what looked like a red symbol of radioactivity on a green background – had skidded to a quick halt. Silhouetted in the dull shadow of the boy standing before Jason, his mother's book – his most prized possession – lie just within the opaque outline. The gold inlaid title of the book seemed to glow brightly in the darkness created by the figure standing cockily in front of him. In his right hand, covered with small splotches of blood, was a golden bat that was bent near the middle. Jason stared at the boy strangely as he flexed his own right hand. The weight of the bat was still there. Had he…had he done this? Was he…responsible? No…of course he wasn't. How _could_ he be? He was never at fault. For anything.

The boy wearing the golden rollerblades in front of him smiled broadly, then lifted an empty hand to his wide mouth and extended a finger to press against his lips.

"_Shhh._"

With that, he raised that same hand to his cap, grabbed the rim, nodded it and his head toward Jason, then turned quickly and skated off down the sidewalk. Lying there on his stomach, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of the bullies, Jason could only stare in confusion at the direction the odd boy wielding the crooked, golden bat had disappeared in. And somewhere deep in his mind, that disembodied voice that he had heard before the boy had shown up echoed loudly.

_The Cycle Repeats?_

But what did it mean?

_**oOo**_

In the darkness of Jason's bedroom, a prone body lay sprawled across the carpeted floor, hand still grasping hold of the portable phone receiver. On the other end was an annoying and loud _beep_, _beep_, _beep_, _beep_. Blood was slowly oozing out of a wound on the side of his head. The man's breathing was erratic and shallow. The wind from the open window blew the curtains aside heavily, gently stirring his thinning hair. Laying before the near lifeless body of Kenneth Bennett was his son's wooden bat, positioned next to the computer chair where it had fallen earlier in the day and still pointed directly at him.

The constant beeping from the receiver's speaker stopped, replaced by an inert, monotone voice.

"_You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please hang up the phone and try your call again."

* * *

_

_As the opening chords of Susumu Hirasawa's _**Sub Usual**_ begins, we can see the faces of all the main characters of _**PARANOIA AGENT: 2ND VISIT**_ being shown in tune with the music. As the tempo and beat of the music changes, the camera pulls back to show that they are all walking around in a circle with dazed expressions on their faces. They are walking around six chairs. There are seven of them. Apparently, they are involved in a game of Musical Chairs. As the beat of the music changes, the seven of them rush for the chairs. Only one is left standing and Lil' Slugger comes out of nowhere and whacks the person a good one, knocking them out and to the ground. Then like an old movie reel, the scene seems to skip and repeats itself, only this time with five chairs and six people. The same thing keeps happening. They sit when the beat of the song changes and Lil' Slugger takes out the one who is still standing. It goes on like this until there's only one chair and two people left. As the looping musical track comes to an end, the two of them are still circling the last chair with that same dazed expression while an impatient Lil' Slugger stands behind them with a big smile on his face, anxiously tapping his bat on his shoulder. The music stops and the last two characters rush for the chair. But before either of them reaches it, the screen fades to black…_

This unsettling closing montage was done to the music of **Susumu Hirasawa's** very freaky sounding **_Sub Usual_ **from the _Paranoia Agent OST_.

* * *

**_A television sitting in a lone circle of light flickers and comes alive with static. A moment later, the image clears to reveal a black-robed Maniwa, with tresses of white hair peeking out from under his hood, sitting behind a black-clothed table smiling. He raises his arms regally into the air and states grandly… _**

**"…THE NEW HOROSCOPES FOR TONIGHT ARE…" **

_**VIRGO!** You dance in a dizzying illusion of want and need. A heart beats with lies in a body that is a lie. In your mind, a golden shadow smiles and shatters the castle of eternal dreams. But once awake, you find a ram wearing a black sheet covered with butterflies stamping it's hoof angrily. Books full of zeroes dance joyfully in the air as a scorpion creeps up silently from the darkness. A golden stinger lashes out and the ram falls. The sheet it wore vanishes, leaving it lying naked and unfamiliar before your eyes. What is truth? _

_**SAGITTARIUS!** In a moment of weakness, you find love. In a moment of doubt, you find sorrow. In a moment of surprise, you find the path left by a boar. Follow it! Be wary when the trail forks. To the left lies a goat pierced by a golden arrow. To the right, a foreboding shadow obscures the path. And to the left, a dog offers happiness. But remember. Happiness is not safety. And safety is not knowledge… _

_**PIECES!** A kingfish falls to the net, leaving you to swim free. But be warned! A crow hovers overhead! And just beyond the sea of tears, a set of scales awaits you. They will offer balance. They will offer comfort. A large water wheel with golden spokes can be seen slowly spinning in the distance. It turns continuously. Never stopping. Always repeating… _

_**The television screen flickers once, twice and then abruptly shuts off.

* * *

**_

**A New Author's Note (REVISED)But The Same Old Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the world of Satoshi Kon's excellent _Paranoia Agent_.** Okay. This is the same old chapter with a new coat of paint, so to speak. In retrospect, I suppose the reason I decided to rework and reboot **_Paranoia Agent: 2nd Visit_** instead of letting it die was 1) the sheer number of views that the story got after I quit working on it and 2) the comment that _TURMOIL_ made when she reviewed _Booster's_ excellent **_Paranoia Agent_** fiction. The question of my whereabouts and the statement that she was still waiting really woke me up and made me reevaluate my decision to continue. And so, with a hand to my heart, I say thank you _TURMOIL_. As far as why I stopped originally, I came to a horrid realization that my plot simply…sucked. At least, to me it did. The direction that I was going made plenty of sense in the beginning, but the more I worked it out in my head, the less Satoshi Kon it seemed and more Hollywood it became. What I mean is, it was less subtle and more blunt. And that really bothered me, especially with great fanfics like _TURMOIL's_ awesome **_Unchangeable_** and _Booster's_ incredible **_Dream Island Obsessional Park_** roaming around the site. I just felt…unfulfilled with what I had in mind. So I just stopped and moved on to other projects on Fictionpress that demanded my attention. It wasn't until recently, while I was doing my usual 'story brainstorming' on the way to work that I came up with a new idea that made me want to 'reboot' the series and start it up again. And with that, I have decided to repost all the old chapters again with revised wording, some dialogue changes and new plot elements. These new plot elements are divergent from what was originally intended for this story, most being key changes to make **_2nd_ _Visit_** flow better with a more Satoshi Kon-like feel (I hope). Also, I've decided to ditch the original 'Prophetic Equations' in favor of the '...The New Horoscopes...' chapter previews (helmed, of course, by a delusional Maniwa). With the minor switch in focus for the story, it seemed a bit more fitting especially in light of how difficult it was to actually get one of my 'Prophetic Equations' posted with Fanfiction's strict editing software. Personally, I think that the '...The New Horoscopes...' previews reflect not just the plot change, but the dependence that some within our society have on other sources of information telling them how to live their lives. If you leave a review, please let me know what you think of the switch out. Hopefully, you guys and gals will find them to be just as puzzling as the 'Prophetica Equations' were. That being said, I hope _TURMOIL_, _Booster_ and _Starlight's Delight_ can forgive me for what I'm about to do. I know you guys liked the first version of **_Paranoia Agent: 2nd Visit_**, but I'm hoping you'll like this revised version more…

Thanks for waiting,

Terryll


	2. Episode 2

A fidgety Japanese man with unkempt, shaggy hair sat uncomfortably on the hard steel chair in the interrogation room deep within the NE Portland Police Precinct on Emerson Street. Nervously, he plucked at the non-existent lint on his well-worn, pale green sweatshirt as he chewed on a few sunflower seeds from the large bag sitting on the dull gray table. There were dark circles under his eyes, indicating that he had been getting little to no sleep. The amount of dirt under his nails and the unshaved surface of his long face showed that his bodily hygiene was also in question. His dark, brown eyes darted about the room wildly as he tried to see everything at once; pausing every now and then as if to listen to some unheard message meant only for his ears alone. The odd man's strangled chuckle brought even more in the way of questioning glances from the two people standing before him.

"_Oh-kay_," the older of the two began lowly, running a chubby hand over his bald scalp and gazing down at the arrest file in his other. "Mister…Mister…uh, how in the hell do you pronounce this? Oh…Oh-chee…gah…wah…? Is that how you say it? Ah screw it. Let's just start again, shall we? From the beginning."

The skinny man sitting in the chair looked up suddenly, eyes wide with fear.

"NO!" he practically screamed out, reaching fervently for the nearly empty bag of sunflower seeds. "No…must not…CANNOT…begin…begin… HORSE… the horse… He told me…he TOLD me… HE warned…WARNED ME…not to begin… But the seed…the SEED chooses… Ha-ha-ha-ha… Warn you…WARN him… Choices…his choices…are NOT the…not the…" He paused for a moment, listening intently to something that only he could hear. His face calmed somewhat, and then slackened into an expression of lucidity before he spoke again. "The moon shall dance tonight. The butterfly will flutter before it. Beauty upon beauty. And the bat will be drawn to it. Only the moon can stand against the bat. Only the moon…but…but what about…butterflies…? NO! Only the moon can…can… STOP… Can stop… Can't stop… CAN stop… CAN'T stop…"

The younger woman standing before the table was looking more perplexed than ever while the bald man to her left looked ready to burst a vein.

"ENOUGH OF THIS BULLSHIT," he yelled, throwing the police file down onto the table and slapping his hands hard against its flat surface. The bag of sunflower seeds jumped up slightly then landed, sending some of its contents bouncing along the top of the table aimlessly. "I want answers! And I want them _now_! I want to know how you managed to broadcast that idiotic message on a government transmitter utilizing a secure carrier wave meant only to be used in the case of emergencies or national importance!"

The thin man gazed up at the larger one, a questioning expression forming on his gaunt and weary face as he tentively reached for another handful of sunflower seeds. Without saying anything, the bald interrogator in the dark suit bent down as quickly as he could manage and snatched up the bag before the man could get any out.

"No," he said heatedly, squeezing the bag in his hand. "Not until you tell me how in the hell you did what you did with that archaic equipment in that abandoned house! And just what the hell were you doing there anyway! How did some homeless bum like you manage to access what you did with all that junk you _call_ a transmitter! What, did you just think that this was some kind of _joke_! That the FCC wouldn't notice that shit you tried to pull! You think that you're smarter than us! Huh! Well, DO you! Answer me, you stupid freak! _ANSWER ME NOW!_"

Without any kind of explanation as to why, the woman standing next to him grabbed his arm and pulled him aside roughly. Pushing the bald man toward the corner of the interrogation room, she placed a calming hand on his shoulder but gave him a hard stare.

"Don't you think you're taking this a little _too_ far, Agent Burke? The man is obviously mentally unstable. Just listen to him."

Burke frowned down at the young woman in front of him, then cast an irritated glance toward the strange Japanese man who was now mumbling to himself as he chewed on what was left of the sunflower seeds in his mouth. The corners of Burke's lips began to twitch. "Maybe so, but he managed to hijack a secure frequency and use it for that…that _garbage_ he spewed all over the Portland airwaves lastnight! The FCC wants answers, Sergeant. And frankly, so do I."

Knocking away her arm before she could say anything, Agent Burke of the FCC pushed past the police sergeant and approached the small table with an expression that was anything but kind. Behind him, the young woman took a deep breath and ran her hand over the close-cropped blonde hair on her head. Turning nimbly, Sergeant Justine Mitchell retraced her path back to the table in the center of the room and took her side by Paul Burke, FCC watchdog extraordinaire.

The bald man was leaning rigidly against the table, palm of one hand flat upon the top of it with the bag of sunflower seeds still held stiffly in the other as those beady black eyes practically burrowed into the Japanese man's skull. "Now, you're gonna tell me what I want to know. No more riddles, no more fucking nursery rhymes; you're gonna tell me the truth about what you were doing lastnight with that crap you call transmitting equipment. You're gonna tell me, or so help me, I'll have you brought up on charges for violating six different FCC regulations and thrown into the backside of the state penitentiary! Now talk! Tell me everything you know!"

Rocking back and forth in the inflexible metal chair, the man named Ochiigawa seemed almost on the verge of falling apart. His scrawny face was paler than before, his brown eyes were heavy with tears and his mouth was quivering as if he were about to start crying. Across from him, Agent Burke smiled with smug satisfaction.

"S-Shounen…Bat… H-He's…he's b-back… I-I won't…won't escape this…this time… No… Be…because he comes…comes for those who…who have been…cornered…" Ochiigawa whispered darkly, voice shaking and on the edge of breaking. Looking up suddenly at the two people before him, he gave them both a warm smile and then closed his eyes. In an instant, Ochiigawa was flying from the chair; head cocked at a crude angle, red-hued saliva being thrown from his crooked mouth and blood slowly beginning to seep from an oblong impact wound that had suddenly appeared on the side of his face. He made an odd gagging sound as he fell haphazardly to the concrete floor of the interrogation room with a solid and meaty _thud_. His eyes had rolled back into his head and the blood that was pooling around his half-open mouth was filled with bits of unchewed sunflower seeds and a few teeth. A very weak moan was the only thing that came from Ochiigawa's motionless body.

Hesitating only for a moment, Sergeant Mitchell pulled herself away from the grisly sight and ran to the metallic gray door. Yanking it open, she poked her head out into the hallway and screamed out for help.

"GET A MEDIC, WE NEED SOME HELP IN HERE! AND SOMEBODY CALL FOR AN AMBULANCE! NOW, GODDAMMIT, _NOW!_"

Back behind the table, Agent Burke raised himself to his full height and just looked on in stunned fascination.

"Great," he uttered absently. "How am I supposed to write _this_ up in my report?"

* * *

_As the opening chant of Himekami's_ **Kamigami no Uta** _begins, Maniwa comes to the end of his equation. The chant ends as he looks up with startled eyes, then everything goes white…only to start clearing up as the main music begins and the camera descends through the clouds to an overhead view of Portland, Oregon. The song picks up as we are treated to a typical busy day in downtown Portland – cars at stoplights, buses and lightrails moving to and from, children walking to school; people in general. Then the camera focuses in on a black-haired boy standing alone at a corner gazing down at a small picture in his hand. The light changes and he starts to walk across the street. Then the camera pans down to his shadow to show that it is that of Lil' Slugger. The focus is placed back on the boy as he walks past a dance studio with a Japanese girl bending and stretching inside. The focus goes to her as she continues with her exercises. Her eyes linger on a backpack in the corner, then stops as her mother comes down the stairs. The camera focuses on both their shadows to show that they are those of Lil' Slugger. As the camera pulls back to outside the dance studio, it refocuses on a gay couple as the stride by laughing and holding hands until they get to entrance of the coffee shop they were going to. The camera pans down to their shadows to show two Lil' Sluggers holding hands, then letting go and pulling them away from each other. The camera focuses back on the couple as they enter the coffee shop. The camera then pulls away in a blur of motion and slows to focus on the interior of a classroom were a nun is waving around a ruler menacingly at her students. Her shadow shows Lil' Slugger waving around his crooked bat. The camera pulls up and away from the class and goes through the window to focuses on a car going by and stays with it. Switching to an inside view, we see a woman with close-cropped blond hair talking on a cell phone as she guides the car toward the police precinct. An outside camera view shows the car pulling up in the parking lot of the station and stopping. The camera then focuses on the pavement as the car door opens and we see the shadow of Lil' Slugger as the one under the woman's feet as she gets out. As the music nears its conclusion, the camera recenters on downtown again and shows that everyone walking around has shadows of Lil' Slugger. The camera then pulls back into an overhead view of Portland. The song comes to an end as the camera pulls away even further to reveal that the entire city is covered with a giant shadow of a laughing Lil' Slugger. Everything fades to black and the Japanese Hiragana for _**PARANOIA AGENT**_ appear and glow red with the words _**2ND VISIT**_ under them in English. Then they too fade to black._

This opening montage was done to the music of **Himekami's** excellent **_Kamigami no Uta_** **(Song of the Gods) **from his _'Best of…'_ Collection.

* * *

**E P I S O D E**

**T W O

* * *

**

**THE TELEVISION**

"_Hello, I'm Alicia Warren and this is the KATU 2 News at Ten. We begin the night with a breaking report. Two local teens were found knocked unconscious earlier today, just four blocks down from Lincoln High School. They were rushed to Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital where they remain in guarded condition. Early reports say that the injuries inflicted were the results of some sort of blunt force trauma to the head…"_

**THE RADIO**

"…_Just takes all kinds, I guess. But seriously, a big blob _eating_ Tokyo? Jeez Carrie, where do you find these people? God. Alright, give me a new victim. Go ahead caller, you're on Alternating Viewpoints with Jesse Blue…speak your mind. If you have one…"_

"_Yeah Jesse, I just wanna say that your last caller was a total nutcase!"_

"_That your professional opinion?"_

"_Well…uh, no…but –"_

"_Then shutup and ask your question, bonehead."_

"_Al-alright. I just wanna…uh, I just wanna know what all this 'shen-jit-soo-no-ken-nin' the Japs keep talking about is."_

"_Best f'n question of the day goes to you, the bonehead of the hour! And all I can tell you is that this 'Shinjitsu no Kinen' that you so professionally pronounced for us is actually translated in good ol' English as…get this folks…as the 'Commemoration of Truth'. As to what the hell THAT means, well your guess is as good as mine. But hey, thanks for calling in. You just took away three minutes of my life that I'll never get back. Next caller…"_

**THE POLICE PRECINCT**

"…_Was taken to the hospital? Why?"_

"_Something happened to him. Honestly looks like someone hit him in the head with a fuckin' bat or something. From what I hear, there was blood and teeth all over the fuckin' Interrogation Room. Guess that FCC guy lost his cool."_

"_Jeez, that's some fucked up shit. So, what'd the captain say 'bout this crap?"_

"_Don't know yet, but he's got you-know-who in there."_

"_Oh man, he's probably chewing her ass a new one. Man, I tell ya, ever since her partner's death, that chick ain't been the same. Sometimes, it's like she's in a whole 'nother world or something."_

"_That's no lie. And what's with that stupid… Fuck, there she is…"_

**THE NEWSPAPER**

_The Portland Tribune, Page 3 Story: 'Recent Break-in At Sports Store Baffles Police'._

…_The investigation, now in its second day, has uncovered that nothing of any real value was removed from the store. All money in the safe was apparently accounted for by store managers. While unsure if it was actually an attempted robbery or just a very unusual case of vandalism, what is certain at this point is that the only thing taken from the store were a considerable number of bats and a few a pair of rollerblades. Local detectives remain perplexed…_

**THE COFFEE SHOP**

"…_Oh, so you got a copy of it too? What did you think?"_

"_It was wonderful! I could hardly put it down. It was so easy to become lost in! I sat down for a few minutes and before I even realized it, an hour had gone by. It was that engaging. And for me to say that, you know the person _has_ to be talented."_

"_I agree. The same thing happened to me too…"_

**INTERNET CHATROOM**

_Dancing Princess: I hate her!_

_Son of a Preacher Man: who?_

_Dancing Princess: My mother, who else!_

_Son of a Preacher Man: u always say that. but u always do as she says too. can't have it both ways u know._

_Dancing Princess: Why can't I? Especially after putting up with her day in and day out! She's just so irritating!_

_Son of a Preacher Man: well yeah, I guess…_

_Dancing Princess: What's that supposed to mean?_

_Son of a Preacher Man: nothin other than u should be happy to have a parent that at least gives a damn and doesn't treat you like u don't exist…_

_Son of a Preacher Man: …like mine._

_Dancing Princess: Oh. Sorry. I guess we both just need a way out, huh? A way to escape from it all…_

_Son of a Preacher Man: yeah… too bad that's not possible._

_Dancing Princess: Tell me about it. I would…damn._

_Son of a Preacher Man: what?_

_Dancing Princess: I just heard the door downstairs. She's home and I've got to go. Sorry! TTYL!_

_(Dancing Princess has just logged off and cannot receive or send any messages.)_

**THE MAGAZINE COVER**

_Two Years Later and We Still Don't Know What Really Happened. A Tokyo Progress Report. Updates and News Inside!_

**THE LIVING ROOM**

"…_A time for mourning and remembrance. You dishonor those who were lost. You dishonor yourself."_

"_Aw, gimme a break grandma! I wasn't even there when that crap happened! Why you'd expect me to go some stupid memorial with a bunch of old folks is beyond me! 'Sides, it all sounds like bull to me."_

"_I expect you to do it because you are my grandson and not some miscreant who doesn't know the meaning of respecting one's elder. Now, get some proper clothing on. We'll be leaving in ten minutes."_

"_God! I wish that Shou –"_

_(SLAP)_

"_Don't you EVER speak that name in this house! Do you understand me? Ever! Now go and get ready like I told you. And hurry up…"_

_**oOo**_

Jason looked on blankly as his father's stretcher was loaded into the back of the ambulance that was parked in his driveway. The heavy feeling in his right hand had long since disappeared. Why had it even felt that way to begin with? In his left, his fingers tightened absently around the book. The backpack cutting into his shoulders seemed to weigh on him as oppressively as his thoughts. What was going on with him? First Chris and Ian and now…now _this_? His…father…? Did he…? _Could_ he…? But…how…?

_The Cycle _Repeats_…?_

The disembodied voice echoed through Jason's mind again. But something seemed different. Somehow, the last part of the question seemed much clearer than the previous time he'd heard it. The first part was sounding dull, muted almost. Like it was coming from a low-band radio or something. Almost as if it the beginning weren't as important as the end. But why did that feel…wrong to him. Why did it feel as though he were losing hold of something important that he should know? Why was he even _worried_ about it in the first place? It wasn't like he understood any of what was going on anyway. Chris and Ian. That odd boy wearing the rollerblades. His bent bat. Golden? What did it matter to him anyway? Why in the hell should _he_ care? Those two pricks got what they deserved. Something that they had been asking for since day one. And besides, no one else cared about him. _Especially_ not the man being strapped into back area of the ambulance with urgent and precise hands.

"Are you related to the victim," a voice in front of him questioned slowly.

Jason looked up at the policeman. His hazel eyes were vacant of feeling, devoid of emotion. His mouth opened mechanically, awkwardly. "He…he's my father."

The policeman regarded Jason strangely for a moment, and then placed a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm sure that he'll be okay. From what the EMs where saying, he took a pretty hard blow to the head but should come through it with no serious problems."

"Yeah," Jason replied dully as he shrugged off the policeman's hand. "That's why they had him strapped to a stretcher with a neck brace on and an oxygen mask over his mouth. Sure he's gonna be just fine and dandy. Ready to throw the ball around with me next week, right?"

The expression on the officer's face faltered quickly, the falsity of his lie clear as the waters of the Caribbean.

"Look, I…I was just trying to – "

Jason didn't reply. He just walked around him and made his way over to the rear of ambulance. Before he could reach it, however, the doors were closed and one of the paramedics who had leapt out seconds ago was rushing toward the front of the vehicle. The red and blue hued light from the noiseless sirens cascaded across his face repetitiously, bathing his expressionless visage in their unnatural glow. The engine of the ambulance came to life and was soon backing out of the driveway and pulling onto the nearly black road that would carry far away from the cool green lawns of suburbia and into the harsh reality of Portland, Oregon.

"Wait," Jason whispered dejectedly as he watched the ambulance quickly move up the dark street. "Don't…don't leave me… Please Dad…don't leave me. I don't wanna be…be alone."

The loud scream of the siren pierced the night, casting out its warnings for all those not comfortably tucked away in their homes to hear. The sound just confirmed Jason's worst fears. He was alone now. There was no one else for him to turn to. First his mother, now his father. His life was full of abandonment. No one cared about him. Eventually, everyone left him. But why? Why didn't anyone give a damn about him? Why didn't anyone _care_!

"Jason? _Jason!_"

A voice rang out into the night. A voice that couldn't _possibly_ belong to who he thought he was hearing. A voice that he hadn't _heard_ in two years, since that horrible night she had first left him alone. Turning slowly, Jason's hazel eyes fell upon the last person in the world that he thought he would see on this of all nights. A person whose bright face stood in direct contrast to her long, dark hair. A person who's piercing blue eyes were nearly luminescent in the drab glow of the street lamps. A person who filled his empty and spent heart, so longing for affection and love, with a warmth he had not experienced since before the day she had left him.

"M-Mom?" he stammered stupidly, voice low, quiet and on the edge of tears. "M-Mom…is that…you?"

A woman in her mid-forties ran up to him, kneeled and grabbed him in a hard, loving embrace. "Oh God Jason," she said, voice so full of emotion that Jason almost couldn't understand what she was saying. "I thought I'd never see you again! I didn't know I'd be gone so…so long this time! I'm really sorry!"

Jason just stood there for a moment, trying to absorb everything that was happening; trying to sort out his thoughts. His mother…his mother was back. She was holding him right now in her arms. So full of love, so full of life, it was everything that he'd hope her return back to Portland would be. She was back with him now. He wasn't alone anymore. He would _never_ be alone again. Then a cold chill crept up his spine. But what…what about his father? Would his dad be okay? And who really did this to him? Could it have been…that strange boy from this morning? But how? _Why?_

"_Shhh_," his mother uttered as she placed a lone finger up to his mouth. Jason was not aware that he had spoken out loud. His mind was too clouded to notice anything. "No more questions. No more worrying. I'm here now and I'll never leave you again, Jason. I promise. Just leave everything to me from now on."

Jason looked down at his mother's crouching form. She was just as beautiful as he remembered her being. Before the divorce. Before everything had gone wrong. Before his father had become a heartless, block of ice. Before her book had become a big seller. Before she had left. When everything was just…_perfect_. A sudden realization dawned and tears began to pour from Jason's eyes. Driven by a unexpected burst of emotion that he did not think he had left, he threw his thin arms around his mother's neck and hugged as hard as he could. His fingers tightened around the book's hard cover. He did not answer her. He couldn't. He was too swept up in the torrent of emotions that he was feeling at her return to him. For the first time in two years, Jason was happy. Completely and utterly _happy_. And nothing would ever destroy that feeling. Not _ever_.

On a lamppost a few feet down the sidewalk from where Jason and his mother were embracing, a midnight-black raven sat perched there preening it's feathers with a dully glittering beak. As the boy and his mother rose from their embrace and moved over toward the police officer, it raised it's head and cocked it awkwardly toward them – beady black eyes centered squarely on the both of them. Flapping its wings in agitation, the raven _cawed_ loudly into the chilly night air.

_**oOo**_

_Twirl. Twirl. Bend back. Arms extended. Leg up._

A loud wood on wood sound echoed brutally through the wide and empty studio.

_Twirl. Twirl. Bend back. Arms extended. Leg up. Higher._

The horrible sound repeated itself.

_Twirl. Twirl. Bend back. Further. Arms extended. Leg up. Higher._

The pounding against the hard, wooden floor of the studio intensified; the unyielding presence of the noise becoming gunshots reverberating all over the expansive room.

_Twirl. Twirl. Faster. Bend back. Further. Arms extended. Leg up. Higher._

The insane cacophony of rude clatter born of impatience and dogmatic pride continued on ceaselessly.

_Twirl. Twirl. Faster. Bend back. Further. Arms extended. With more grace. Leg up. Higher._

The foul noise of a wooden cane harshly striking the scuffed surface of the dance studio stopped abruptly, followed by the sound of footfalls meticulously transversing the space between student and teacher. Soon they stopped. There was silence. Then another sound erupted, breaking the silence and shattering the calm. The sound of flesh impacting against flesh.

"You stupid girl," an angry voice shouted out. "Can't you get even the _simplest_ of steps right! Twirl, twirl, bend back, arms extended, leg up! How hard is that! You're worthless to me if you can't get something so easy to understand right! What's wrong with you!"

Tsukina Hishimoto raised a light hand tentively to the side of her face where she was struck. She rubbed at the reddening welt tenderly as she cast sorrowful eyes at the woman standing before her. "I'm sorry Mo – " The woman's icy eyes widened cruelly. "I-I mean, I'm sorry _sensei_. I thought that I had it. I was trying very hard and – "

Tsukina's voice cut off abruptly as her sensei backhanded her again. She stumbled back from the slap and, losing her balance, fell to the floor.

"What have I told you about making stupid excuses, _girl_! There are _no_ excuses in dancing! Only results. Something that you have _yet_ to show me, Tsukina!"

The girl wearing a light blue leotard with white tights beneath it gazed up nervously at the hard woman glaring down at her. She still held the other cheek that had first felt the stiff backhand of her mother, Asashi Hishimoto, even though the opposite one throbbed and burned just as badly. Opening up her mouth hesitantly, Tsukina suppressed the urge to cry as she spoke out again. "I will do better, sensei. I'll show you that I _can_ be a dancer! I'll show you that I can be just like you, sensei! Just as good! Please, give me a chance to learn more!"

Asashi Hishimoto looked down unpleasantly at her fallen daughter, eyes narrowed and eyebrows twisted up into a hideous scowl.

"Oh, you'll get your chance, Tsukina," the cruel woman uttered nastily. "Because you're not leaving here until you get _every_ step that I teach you right. Now get up and stop sitting there like an idiot! Move girl, I don't have the whole night to worry with your stupidity."

Concern creased Tsukina's young face as she rose from the floor.

"B-But," she began uneasily, pushing a few strands of her dark hair back behind an ear. "I still have…I still have to study for my final exams. They're very important if I want to pass this year and not repeat the eleventh grade. I only have a few weeks left before they start and – "

"SHUT UP!" Asashi thundered angrily as she smashed the bottom of her wooden cane against the studio floor in absolute annoyance. "Just shut your mouth, Tsukina! How DARE you put your schooling before the dance! The dance is _everything_, Tsukina! There is nothing more important! There can't be! If you want to succeed at it, you must put it before _all_ else and make it your _life_! There's no room for anything else! And as long as you're _my_ student, girl, there _won't_ be! Now, take your position and don't bother me with such foolishness again!"

Turning on the balls of her feet sharply, Asashi strode painfully back over to her place of observance and resumed her teaching posture; legs straight and even, bottom of the cane held against the floor oppressively, and those stony and dark eyes locked on her daughter. Her mouth opened and the sharp, piercing words coming from it echoed through the stale, sweat-scented air of the studio. "Now resume! Twirl…twirl…bend back…arms extended…leg up! Again! Twirl…twirl…bend back…arms extended…leg up! Again Tsukina! You are not leaving here until you get it right, do you understand me! You're going to stay here all night if you have to! Whatever it takes, you _will_ get these steps right! Again! Twirl…twirl…bend back…arms extended…leg up! Again! Twirl…twirl…bend back…arms extended…leg up! Again! Twirl…twirl…bend back…"

Asashi's words became lost to her daughter's ears, drowned out by thoughts beneath thoughts. Tsukina did that same step over and over again, the constant disapproving glare of her mother burning into her eyes. But she did what she always did with the short-haired woman before her. She accepted it. She acquiesced to her mother's wishes. She did everything that the woman told her to do, no matter how cruel it might seem. She did it because she loved her mother. She did not want to disappoint her, the woman whom given up so much to grant her life. It would just break Tsukina's heart to hurt her like that. It was for that reason that she had taken up the dance in the first place. To please her mother, to make her love Tsukina even more. To bring the two of them closer together.

But somewhere deep down inside Tsukina, so deep that it remained hidden even from her, she hated the woman. Loathed her. She couldn't stand her. Her holier-than-thou attitude, her constant harping that the dance was 'everything', the mental anguish, the physical abuse; all of it made Tsukina hate the woman with a gnawing passion. She wanted her _own_ life. She wanted to be _independent_. Tsukina didn't want to live in the shadow of a woman who blamed her for everything that she had lost, including her ability to dance. She wanted to excel in her schooling. She wanted to get a scholarship, go to college and create a _real_ life for herself. Something…tangible. Something that didn't require as much sacrifice as the dance did. Something that allowed her to be…_truer_ to herself. Something that kept her from living a lie. Like she was now. Down deep, she was tired of letting the woman disrupt her plans for the future just so Asashi Hishimoto could intravenously live her life through her only daughter. Just so she could _dance_ again through Tsukina. More than anything, it was _that_ thought that sickened her. And at the rate she was going, at the rate that her mother was driving her; she would fail the eleventh grade in no time flat. And for what? Five stupid dance steps that she could easily master, if she _wanted_ to. But then, she _didn't_ want to. Which was the bulk of the problem that she faced.

All the more reason why she kept everything locked up inside.

"Dammit, Tsukina!" Asashi yelled out, smacking the blunt end of her cane against the scarred surface of the dance floor. "You're not even trying anymore! You're not a flamingo! Don't bend your knee! And why are your arms uneven! Can't you even keep _them_ straight! You're hopeless! You'll never amount to anything! You're no better than your father! And I refuse to teach my lessons to someone as worthless as a man who would put a bullet through his head instead of facing the truth of his problems! Are you like that, _'Tsuki'_? That was his pet name for you, wasn't it? His _Chiisai Tsuki_, if I remember correctly. Are you a quitter like him? Will you kill yourself as well when life gets too hard?"

Tsukina had stopped moving when her mother had made mention of her father. She stood there. Frozen. Trapped by the horrible memories of that day. _The blood._ It had been everywhere. _The scent. _His entire apartment reeked of days old death. _His face._ A crimson mask of regret covered it, his dead eyes begging for forgiveness from the child he knew would find him. Tsukina's eyes were beginning to tear up, those terrible memories of that day overpowering her resolve not to cry in front of her mother. She broke down. Without saying anything, Tsukina fell to her knees and began to weep quietly into her hands after she had raised them to her face.

Asashi scowled down heatedly at her daughter, then snorted roughly under her breath.

"You're pathetic, Tsukina," she retorted, words harsh and full of spite. "We're done for the night, girl. In fact, until you can figure out what's _more_ important to you, don't bother asking me to train you again."

With that, Asashi Hishimoto turned and slowly walked away from her still-sobbing daughter, limping ever so slightly as she placed her weight on the cane. Moving toward the staircase that led to the loft apartment above, she paused only long enough to run her lithe hands down across the light switches. The entire studio went dark. Asashi then began her painfully deliberate climb up the stairs, heedless and uncaring of the fact that her daughter was still kneeling there on the hard, wooden dance floor; crying over the memories of a man long dead.

"You're weak, Tsukina," she shouted back down the stairs without ever turning around. "He's dead and he's not coming back for you! It's time for you to grow up and move on! It's time for you to make a choice!"

Tsukina only cried harder.

_**-o-**_

The bright morning sunlight that filtered in through the large panes of glass pulled Tsukina from her slumber. Her eyes opened up gradually, the dried tears from lastnight at their corners loosening and falling away from her face noiselessly. Her body ached all over, tired and worn from repeating dance steps that she both did and did not want to learn. Why was her mother being so mean? She had always been rigid before, but now she seemed almost…_unbendable_. And why had she brought up her father in such a horrible way? How…how _could_ she?

Tsukina unhurriedly pushed herself up from the hard wood of the dance floor. She sighed softly as she did. Even with the air conditioner running, the entire length of the room still smelled like day old sweat. It was a repulsive odor, one that she could definitely do without. Painfully rising to her knees, Tsukina stretched her arms above her head and tried to loosen up her knotted muscles. Her brown eyes lifted toward the ceiling as she reared back her head and yawned. As she did, the dull glint of sunlight reflecting off the face of the rather plain-looking clock caught her attention. Still holding her arms in the air, Tsukina gazed over at the time-telling device as she brought her head forward again. Her eyes widened frightfully at what they saw.

_N-nine fifty-seven,_ she stammered in her mind. _T-that…that _can't_ be right! It just can't be!_

Ignoring the pain her body was in, Tsukina got up as quickly as she could and rushed over to where her backpack was sitting alone on the floor next to the windows. Reaching down and unzipping it, she kneeled and started to rummage through its contents. A few seconds later, she pulled two objects from its interior – a small, featureless watch that she had bought and set exclusively to the Lincoln High School clock, and a slightly wrinkled, fuchsia envelope with the words **"Happy Mother's Day"** scrawled across the front in her messy handwriting. Tossing the latter aside absently, she instead lifted the watch up to her eyes. The precise, digital numbers confirmed her heart-clenching fear.

_10:00 a.m._

"No," she uttered under her breath, gripping the watch tightly as she turned her head toward the staircase leading to the loft apartment. "W-why didn't she wake…wake me up?"

Tsukina shook herself away from the question and shoved the watch back into her school bag angrily. _The least she _could've_ done was wake me up, _she growled irritably in her mind. Remembering blankly that she was still wearing her dance leotards and tights, Tsukina didn't even bother to head upstairs for a shower or a fresh change of clothes. There just wasn't any time. Making her way over to a small wicker hamper in the far corner of the studio, she pulled it open and searched through the dirty clothes there for something that didn't reek _too_ much. When she found something suitable, Tsukina tossed them on the floor and began to remove her sweat-stained leotard. Pulling the straps down from her shoulders, she cast one more questioning glance toward the staircase. _Dammit Mom,_ she thought heatedly, removing the leotard and tights from her body in one motion after she had sat down on the floor. _Why didn't you wake me up!_ Standing again, Tsukina reached down for the pair of grungy-looking denim jeans and wondered if the day could get any worse than it already was.

_**-o-**_

By the time she had gotten dressed and made it out the door of the dance studio owned by her mother, Tsukina was well over two hours late for school. And no matter how hard she tried to understand it, no matter how hard she tried to view it in most positive light possible; she just couldn't figure out _why_ her mother had let her oversleep like that. It made absolutely no sense. She knew how important school was to her. Why would her own mother do something like that? Especially when Tsukina was risking her academic future just to please her!

That thought was at the top of Tsukina's head as she ran toward the stopped bus next to the white and black sign. She found herself waiting after she had arrived, impatiently standing there as other people exited the large and noisy vehicle. Sighing audibly, Tsukina took the time to pull the backpack from her shoulder. Holding it in front of her, she opened it and reached in to retrieve her transit card. After the last person had disembarked, Tsukina stepped onto the bus, hastily handed the driver her card so he could check it and then made her way to one of the front seats when he had given it back to her. Removing her backpack from her shoulder, she set it down and slid it next to the wall of the bus. Then she sat down and took as deep of a breath as she could without gagging on the strong scent of diesel fuel. Leaning back, Tsukina closed her eyes and let her mind wander as the bus pulled away from the Transit Stop.

_Why can't she understand? Why doesn't she see that I want something that I can call my own? Why does she hate Dad so much? What'd he ever do to her? I…I want to love her. But…But she won't let me in. What's she so scared of? Why is she so obsessed? Why can't I just be a…a daughter to her? Why can't she –_

The sudden and malicious jarring of motion that accompanied the bus driver slamming as hard as he could on the brakes practically threw Tsukina from her seat. Barely managing to catch herself by grabbing hold of the seat rail in front of her, she held against it tightly until the bus came to a complete stop. From the driver's seat, she could hear the old man there cursing loudly as he shook his fist at the cause of the abrupt stop. Curious, Tsukina stood up and peered over the driver's shoulder. Through the windshield, she could see a strange-looking Japanese boy standing there in the middle of the road; red cap on his head and golden rollerblades on his feet. In his right hand, a golden bat that was bent at a forty-five degree angle near its blunt end. Their eyes locked. Suddenly, Tsukina felt very insecure and small; aware of everything that was being said about her behind her back. Insults and rumors. Lies and half-truths. True feelings and hidden pains. All of it was laid out before her. Tsukina's heart pounded in her chest. Sweat beaded in thin lines along her forehead. Her clothing felt too tight, constricting. Like her mother's strict training and rigid adherence to be something that she could never be again. Like the endless pressure she placed upon herself to get good grades so she wouldn't be trapped in a life she despised. She could not breath! Everything seemed to be spinning. What…was…happening…? The world around her dimmed and the last thing that she saw was that boy smiling at her as he skated off…

"HEY!"

Tsukina shook visibly at the loud voice that was being directed at her. _What the…? What…what happened to that boy? The one on the middle of the street. Wait a minute…wasn't the bus…stopped? What the hell is going on!_

"HEY YOU!" the bus driver shouted out again, sounding more and more agitated each time he raised his voice. "You _need_ to sit down! You can't be standing up while the bus is in motion, kid! Got rounds to make, you know! And I can't do that if you're _standing_ there! Last thing I need is for you to fall and hit your head or something, Lord knows I don't _need_ that on my conscience! So sit the hell down before I stop and put you off my bus!"

She just stood there for a moment, completely unsure of what she should do. She was _sure_ that there had been a weird looking Japanese boy in the middle of the street wearing a pair of golden inline skates and holding the same colored bat. She was also certain that the bus had been stopped. But…but it _hadn't_ been stopped. Had it? It…it had been in motion this whole time? She…she had been _standing_ this whole time? What the hell was going on!

"Kid," the bus driver practically snarled. "I ain't gonna tell you again! SIT DOWN!"

Tsukina quickly took her seat again, not wanting to raise the ire of the elderly bus driver any further than it already was. "Sorry," she stated just loud enough for the driver to hear over the groaning of gears and rumbling of the engine. He waved a dismissive hand back in her direction, but said nothing as he concentrated on guiding the oversized vehicle down the traffic-laden street. Leaning back uncomfortably in her tattered seat, Tsukina wondered if her mind was beginning to crack under the all stress she'd been putting herself under lately. Was it worth it? The additional complications of trying to both appease her desire to be something more than just another high school graduate – another face in the crowd – and earn her mother's seemingly unattainable love; was it really worth all of the trouble it was causing? All the pain?

Sighing faintly, she turned toward the window and gazed out. The dull, featureless brick buildings of Northwest Portland pass by at an achingly slow pace. It seemed as if the bus driver had taken an exception to her standing after all. At the rate the bus was traveling, it would take her the rest of the day to get to school! But that was something that she couldn't afford. Not with final exams looming so close. And especially with the way her grades had been lately. If she didn't pass all of them, there was no way that she would make it to the twelfth grade! Something that she could not let happen, no matter what. Allowing herself to become lost in the passing scenery, Tsukina slipped away slowly into her own little dream world. A place the was slowly becoming more real to her than her waking life.

_Everything is going to turn out just fine. I might be late today, but Principal Bancroft will understand. He always understands. And if I miss some of the more important notes from my classes, I'm sure that Lise will be willing to share hers with me. So yeah, everything should be just fine. I'll study extra hard today in the library, then go home late and try to get Mom to train me again. I have to make her understand that I love her._

In the smudged and dirty windowpane, a shadowy image appeared behind her. Tsukina paid it no attention as she continued to daydream about her perfect life, her mind beginning to fray at the rapid thoughts. Inside her head, something began to unravel.

_I will devote myself to the dance for her and make her proud of me. I'll show her that I can be exactly what she wants me to be. I'll make her accept me and love me. And then, she'll become the perfect mother that I always wanted._

The dull image to her rear took on a more defined and pronounced shape as Tsukina settled deeper into her deluded dream world. A large smile painted itself maliciously across the pale face under the rim of a red baseball cap with three large, circular pins on it.

_I will be her little dancer, and I'll make her happy. And she'll love me for it. Of course, I'll graduate too! And Mom will be there, cheering me on. Because she loves me. She'll always love me._

Slowly, the figure to her rear solidified. For a moment, it paused in what it was about to do and looked down curiously at itself. It's smile lessened a bit, as if realizing something that it hadn't before then shook it off. Raising an oblong object bent near the middle up and pulling back it's arm slowly, that wicked grin returned and grew even wider.

_I'll go on to college to make me happy because I deserve a life outside of the dance._

The reflection's arm reared back even further. Tsukina continued on with her delirious and dizzying thoughts. Something seemed…_wrong_ in her head.

_And I'll go on dancing because that's what will make Mom love me. That's what will keep her close to me. Make her happy to make me happy to make her happy to make me happy._

A crazed smile creased Tsukina's lips as the arm holding the twisted bat rushed forward. It was the life she always wanted! The perfect life! That's where she wanted to be!

_Make her happy to make me happy. Make her happy to make me happy. Make her happy to make me –_

There was a sharp blow to the back of her head. It threw her forward uncontrollably. A slight smile quirk her lips as Tsukina's face cracked hard against the double-paned glass. Then all was black.

_**oOo**_

Tsukina rose from the hard wood floor of the dance studio with a scream. Pushing herself up quickly, she backpedaled away from the large display panes of the studio's windows. She didn't stop until she was huddled up against the wall – and even _that_ didn't seem to be enough to shake away that hideous dream she just had. Late for school? Riding a transit bus to get there on time? The boy with the bat and the rollerblades. Behind her. Hitting her. Why had she been…been _smiling_? And why didn't she try to stop him? It _had_ been a dream, hadn't it?

Something was tickling at her mind, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. That boy, why did he seem so familiar to her? The cap, the bat, the rollerblades; all of it tugged at a memory lodged somewhere in the back of her head. Something that had happened in Tokyo somewhere around two years ago. Her Mom had told her about it when she had first arrived back in the States after returning from a trip to visit her family in Osaka. Back when the woman was still speaking to Tsukina like a daughter and not an errant student of the dance. Something about how the city had almost been destroyed by…by… By a boy with a _bat_?

Tsukina laughed nervously to herself as she looked up tentively at the pristine panes of glass and the dimly lit street and buildings beyond them. _That's just stupid! A boy with a bat nearly destroying Tokyo? That doesn't make any sense at all! How could one scrawny little kid with a bat take down a city as big as Tokyo? Mom must've been joking with me. She had to be! But still…why was I dreaming about such a freaky looking kid? And why did…_

The sound of slow, heavy footfalls on the wooden staircase pulled Tsukina from her odd thoughts. Before she could even collect herself enough to be presentable to her mother, the lights came on, then Asashi stepped off the last stair and calmly turned to face her daughter with compassionless eyes. "Is it your truest wish, Tsukina, to have the neighboring businesses complaining about screams and other noises coming from this studio in the middle of the night?" she questioned in a rough, none too kind tone. "Do you hate me so much that you would try to cripple the only source of income for us?" Folding her robed arms across her chest rigidly, Asashi frowned down at Tsukina. Her brown eyes narrowed darkly. "Well, are you going to answer me or not? Sitting there like an idiot isn't going to help us remedy this situation any sooner, is it?"

Tsukina glowered over at her mother, hidden feelings slowly beginning to simmer to the surface. "I had…had a bad dream," she uttered miserably, choking down the urge to raise her voice to the woman who had taken care of her after her father had put a bullet through his temple. Returning her eyes to the windows in front of her and pulling her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her long arms around them easily. The faint, sour scent of old sweat touched her small nose nauseatingly. She really needed to take off that leotard. "It…it was just a stupid dream, that's all. _Sorry_ to wake you." That last sentence she threw out icily.

Asashi's eyes grew cold for a moment, then slowly – forcibly – warmed. "Look Tsukina," she began, smoothing out the rear of her robe and seating herself on the second step of the staircase. "I'm not going to coddle you just because you had a bad dream. That was something that your father always did. Something he did _far_ too much." Pausing, Asashi stared at the large window of the studio as well. At that moment, it was the only thing she shared in common with her daughter. "Keizou always _was_ too soft-hearted. Never wanting to hurt anyone's feelings, always trying to spare the other person any kind of pain; that was his biggest failing." Asahi raised a hand and expertly pushed back the stray strands of hair that had fallen in her face back behind an ear. Her thin lips quivered into a slight smile, however. "I think that is one of the reasons why I hate him."

Tsukina lifted her head from its resting place against the top of her kneecaps and glared hard eyes at her mother.

"What right do _you_ have to hate him," she practically hollered as that previous feeling of anger went from a simmer to a boil. Leaning both of her legs flat against the floor, she turned her entire body toward Asashi. "All I've ever heard you do is badmouth him like he was less than nothing! You didn't care about him! You've _never_ cared about him! You're happy that he killed himself! Aren't you? _Aren't you!_"

Asashi crooked her head toward her glowering daughter, her own eyes tight with emotion. "You're wrong, girl. I have _every_ right in the world to hate him. He left me alone here to raise you! He shot himself in the head without worry or fear of the consequences that his actions would bring! Don't you _understand_, Tsukina! He left me here alone to raise a daughter! One that wasn't even my _own_!" As soon as the words had come out, Asahi hands flew up to her mouth like frightened pigeons.

And all at once, Tsukina's world shattered. Every daydream of her perfect life with a mother who loved her vanished. She rose from the floor with a stunned, exasperated look plastered across her paling face. Her mind was reeling. Her heart was pounding. She could hear the blood rushing through her veins. She could feel herself taking two involuntary steps back from her 'mother's' direction. "N-No…you're l-lying," Tsukina stammered as she groped at the waist-high wall railing. Her knees were getting weaker. She could not seem to catch her breath. It came from her mouth in quick, unsteady gasps. "Y-You're just… You c-can't… W-Why would… No… T-Tell me the…the t-truth… _STOP LYING TO ME!_" Tsukina's knees gave out. She fell hard to the floor and grabbed at her head as Asashi rose from the stairs and took a few tenuous steps towards her adopted daughter. The images of that strange Japanese boy with the twisted, golden bat slowly took a shadowy shape in her mind. It raised the oblong object like a weapon and swung it down. Her head jolted upward as she threw her hands harshly, palm-first, onto the studio floor. Looking up with furious and confused eyes, Tsukina screamed in the woman's direction; a woman she _thought_ she knew. "NO! You just…just… S-STAY...STAY AWAY FROM ME! L-LEAVE ME ALONE! JUST…J-JUST GO AWAY! _I-I WANT YOU TO G-GO AWAY!_"

Before Asashi could take another step toward her, or before she could utter another sentence, Tsukina pulled herself back up to her feet as best she could and ran for the front door. In her head, that grinning boy with the bat began to laugh. Was he getting… Why did he seem… Lies! Everything was full of lies! Even her mind was turning against her! Turning the knob and flinging it open wildly, she bolted out into the street uncaring of any cars that might be traveling down it at the late hour. Hobbling after Tsukina as best she could without her cane, Asashi slowly chased after her.

_**-o-**_

The tears that were rolling down Tsukina's cheeks felt warm, which was a direct contrast to what she was feeling inside. _You're wrong girl._ How could…how could he not _tell_ her! _Why_ didn't he tell her! Why did he _hide_ it from her! They were… Her father and her… They were supposed to be close…! _WHY_!

_Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch..._

Raising her head, she looked up into the night sky as the tears pooling at the bottom of her eyes blurred her vision. _I have every right in the world to hate him._ Why didn't he tell her! Why did he have to be such…such a _coward_! Who was her _real_ mother! Who was _she_!

_Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch..._

Stumbling and falling to her knees, Tsukina screamed out angrily as she pounded her fists against the rough pavement of the sidewalk. _He left me alone here to raise you!_ He lied. She lied. Everyone lied! She had no family! She had no one to love! She was alone!

_Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch..._

Tsukina pounded her fists against the uneven surface of the concrete again and again; doing so until she could hardly feel them anymore. The ground where they landed was becoming wet and sticky with her blood. _He shot himself in the head without worry or fear of the consequences his actions would bring!_ The tears in her eyes flowed freely down her face, leaving long streaks that glistened dimly in the muted light of the lampposts. _"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! IT'S NOT TRUE! IT'S ALL A LIE! IT CAN'T BE TRUE!"_ she screamed out into the humid night air. _"IT JUST CAN'T BE!"_

_Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch..._

Why? Why was this _happening_ to her! She had always been good! All she had wanted to do was please the woman who had raised her after her father died! All she had wanted to do was make her _mother_ love her! That's all. Just make her mother love her! _Don't you understand, Tsukina! He left me here alone to raise a daughter! One that wasn't even my own!_ Tsukina lifted her head, teeth biting at her lower lip as she cried even harder than before.

_Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch..._

_One that wasn't even my own!_

_Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch..._

_One that wasn't even my own!_

_Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch...Skitch..._

_ONE THAT WASN'T EVEN MY OWN!_

The sound of rollerblades on the hard concrete of the sidewalk roared in Tsukina's ears as she turned her head in the direction it was coming from. Fear seized her heart when she saw what was approaching. Eerily flashing in and out of view as he passed quickly under the evenly spaced lampposts, the boy from her dreams…the boy from her nightmares, was skating towards her. But… But she had just been thinking… How did… He had been in her head… Hadn't he…? What was going on!

That golden bat glittered sickenly in the weak illumination from the street lamps as he lowered it to the ground. It skittered and bounced along the rough surface of the sidewalk, leaving behind faint trails of sparks when it struck concrete. Tsukina's eyes widened. The boy smiled broadly. _Just like he had in her dreams!_ The bat lifted up above his head. _He was…he was going to hit her for real this time!_ Her heart tried to pound it's way out her chest. _Was this…was this her only way out?_ The bent bat reared back even further, and then began its brutal descent toward her. _Was this…her only escape from the pain?_ She ducked her head down, throwing her arms up around it in a futile attempt to protect it from injury. But nothing happened. The strike never came. It…stopped.

Tsukina cringed outwardly as the horrible weapon halted just short of her head. The tears were still flowing heavily from her eyes, but now her face wore an expression of open confusion. Lowering her arms and raising her head hesitantly, she gazed up into the face of her would-be attacker. And saw frightened eyes through the shadows that were opened as wide as they could go. The boy, he was…was _scared_. He seemed frozen by…_something_. He could not move. He could not swing his bat down upon her. Somewhere in her distraught mind, what was happening did not make any amount of sense. Something about what was happening rang..._foul_. She didn't know how, but she that this was wrong.

"Tsukina! Tsukina, where are you?"

Her eyes widened. It was her moth...it was that _woman's_ voice, the one who had raised her - the one who had lied to her. It was her frantic and nearly pleading voice echoing through the dark streets that drew not only Tsukina's attention, but her would-be assailant's as well. And that was all it took for the boy with the bat to shrug off his hesitation. Looking down at her with a broad, toothy grin, he tipped his cap to her, shrugged his slim shoulders nonchalantly and turned in the direction that the woman's desperate cry had come from. Before Tsukina could raise a hand to stop the strange boy, he was gone – seemingly there one minute, and gone the next. Did…did she just imagine that? A moment later, she heard a faint _thwomping_ sound and then a heavy thud. Flesh had met metal. Little boy with the bat had met her so-called _mother_. Then all was silent in the alley.

* * *

_As the opening chords of Susumu Hirasawa's _**Sub Usual**_ begins, we can see the faces of all the main characters of _**PARANOIA AGENT: 2ND VISIT**_ being shown in tune with the music. As the tempo and beat of the music changes, the camera pulls back to show that they are all walking around in a circle with dazed expressions on their faces. They are walking around six chairs. There are seven of them. Apparently, they are involved in a game of Musical Chairs. As the beat of the music changes, the seven of them rush for the chairs. Only one is left standing and Lil' Slugger comes out of nowhere and whacks the person a good one, knocking them out and to the ground. Then like an old movie reel, the scene seems to skip and repeats itself, only this time with five chairs and four people. The same thing keeps happening. They sit when the beat of the song changes and Lil' Slugger takes out the one who is still standing. It goes on like this until there's only one chair and two people left. As the looping musical track come to an end, the two of them are still circling the last chair with that same dazed expression while an impatient Lil' Slugger stands behind them with a big smile on his face, anxiously tapping his bat on his shoulder. The music stops and the last two characters rush for the chair. But before either of them reaches it, the screen fades to black…_

This unsettling closing montage was done to the music of **Susumu Hirasawa's** very freaky sounding **_Sub Usual_ **from the _Paranoia Agent OST_.

* * *

_**A television sitting in a lone circle of light flickers and comes alive with static. A moment later, the image clears to reveal a black-robed Maniwa, with tresses of white hair peeking out from under his hood, sitting behind a black-clothed table smiling. He raises his arms regally into the air and states grandly…**_

"…**THE NEW HOROSCOPES FOR TONIGHT ARE…"**

_**LEO!** Oh! A path marked with so many obstacles! Denial of a crab begins it! A question can be heard in echoes. Let your flight from the truth begin! An archer calls out for aid! A virgin awaits your tender ministrations! Oh! The shadows close in on you. The trail has darkened! Who knows? Behind you, a door opens to reveal skeletons. Yet, the twins save you. However, rumor and fear crack the fragile glass around you and the world shatters into glistening splinters. Untruth becomes truth. But at the end of the long road, a glittering golden reward awaits you…_

_**VIRGO!** Revelations! The fallen ram stirs. It moves. It speaks. But what is real? From the darkness, an archer appears, dispelling the illusion. In the black, gold strikes stone and the sound of fear blares a warning. Truth and delusion become one and you find yourself in the castle of eternal dreams. Within you meet a lion bound by chains of denial. You speak and the chains vanish, allowing it to run away. In the distance, the archer calls out to you. But it is too late! All around, the castle begins to crumble and you fall. Black on black. Will you ever land?_

_**SAGITTARIUS!** The fork lies well behind. What path have you chosen? The right one? Matter does it not. All paths lead back to the original. They loop. Like a cycle that never ends. Nevertheless, the hunt for the scorpion begins. On your travels, you encounter a virgin and a ram. They dwell in a room of nothing, representing a truth and a lie. Butterflies dance around the virgin, but they remain unseen. Beyond your view, a lion stalks the shadows. It eyes the virgin but then stops and disappears. Words echo and the path of the boar resumes. But in the darkness, a golden stinger shimmers…_

_**PIECES!** No longer do you swim alone. The scales remain by your side and they ease your mind. Overhead, a crow continues to hover but it's threat is lost to the bliss of ignorance. In your hand, the book of one burns. It flashes gold and grows heavier. But the scales soothe you and the book becomes cold once again. In the distance, the wheel with golden spokes continues to spin…_

_**The television screen flickers once, twice and then abruptly shuts off.

* * *

**_

**Author's Note & Disclaimer:** **I do not own anything pertaining to the world of Satoshi Kon's excellent _Paranoia Agent_.** Well, the revision to this chapter wasn't as massive as I'd thought it'd be. It pretty much flowed in the right direction. I added a bit here and there, tried to make the connections to the previous chapter a bit more evident. However, my biggest concerns are _'...the Horiscopes For Tonight...'_ previews for the upcoming chapters. I just don't know. Do you people like them? Or are they more of a headache than a help. I really wanted to go for something that fit into the **_Paranoia Agent_** world, but I can't shake the fact that they might be giving away too much - or not enough. Or maybe it's just me. Well anyways, I hope you enjoyed this 'episode' of **_Paranoia Agent: 2nd Visit_**! I appreciate all the views that I've been getting! Honestly, with this being a repost...I really wasn't expecting even that. LOL! So thanks everyone!

See you next chapter!

Terryll Preston


	3. Episode 3

**(DISCLAIMER: The following, rather lengthy, chapter of _Paranoia Agent: 2nd Visit_ contains mature subject matter involving homosexual activities. You have been warned…)

* * *

**

Tsukina Hishimoto gazed down at her gauze-wrapped hands tiredly. They felt…numb. Just like she did. Numb and empty, almost as if they weren't really there. Much like her mind, much like her entire life up to this point, they had been the victim of a horrifying revelation that had driven her into the spiraling depths of both denial and despair. Everything that she thought she knew was wrong. Everything that she had ever believed was a lie. The one person in the world that Tsukina had been willing to sacrifice almost anything to please so that she would love her…was not real. She had no one. She had nothing. She _was_ nothing. Everything that she thought she was had been stripped away from her rudely, without any kind of warning.

_Don't you understand, Tsukina! He left me here alone to raise a daughter! One that wasn't even my _own!

Tsukina cringed outwardly at those hideous words as they echoed in her mind mercilessly. Why hadn't her father told her the truth? Why did he hide it from her? Who was her _real_ mother? Who _was_ she? Again, she could feel the tears beginning to form in her eyes; not from the pain of her injured hands, but from the spoken truth that had shattered her reality. Tsukina tried to suppress them. She had already spent the remnants of the entire night crying. She was tired of the tears. She was tired of feeling nothing but an aching sorrow that ate away at her heart. She wanted to be happy again. She wanted to be free of the pain that had broken her spirit and taken away the only thing that ever mattered to her. She wanted…wanted the _lie_ back. She didn't want the truth, she _never_ wanted the truth. She never _asked_ to know! The only thing that she had wanted was for her mother to love her like any mother should. But now, that would be impossible.

A boy with golden bat formed in her head, his dark smile piercing the gloom. She shut her eyes tightly and tried to push away the shadowy image of him.

"No," she grunted weakly, on the verge of raising her gauzed hands to her head. "J-Just…go…go away… Please…"

A weak moan from beside her pulled Tsukina away from the twisted emptiness of her inner turmoil and delusional battle with the illusion in her mind. Her heart almost skipped a beat when that sound had escaped the pale woman's lips. Opening her eyes, she hesitantly turned to face the woman who had _been_ her mother until last night. Asashi Hishimoto's eyelids fluttered open spastically. Her mouth worked and moved oddly. For a moment, Tsukina forgot about her sorrow, forgot about her own worries and gazed down nervously at her…her… At the woman who had raised her. Afterall, she had been the one hit by the boy with the bat. Struck in the side of the head and knocked unconscious by that little freak. When Tsukina had found her, Asashi was lying haphazardly against the rough surface of the pavement in the alley she had been searching through. Trying to find…her. And even though she knew it wasn't her _real_ mother, that didn't stop the feelings of horror or fear for her well being from forcing Tsukina up from the ground in a panic to find the woman help. But _who_ had that boy been? And why did he seem…_different_ from the one in her nightmare? The one that seemed to be trapped in her head. Why didn't he attack her instead? Why did he go after her…after the woman lying on the hospital bed next to her?

"Tsu-Tsukina…?"

The voice of Asashi filled Tsukina with both joy and dread. Old feelings of closeness and familiarity being rolled over by a wave of doubt, confusion and anger; a dark tide of negativity that she had _always_ felt, but never knew _why_. Until now.

Forcing a smile on her weary face, Tsukina looked down at the woman who was not her mother and said…nothing. What _could_ she say to her? How could she speak to the woman when she _knew_ that the first words out of her mouth would be _anything_ but kind? There were questions that she wanted answered. Dark spots in her life that she wanted filled with light. Who was her real mother? What was she like? Why did she just…just abandon her and her father? And _where_ did she go? Those were the questions rattling around in her mind like loose dice. On the bed beside her lay the woman who could give Tsukina the answers she craved. A woman who was again trying to speak to her.

"Tsu-Tsukina…? W-Why…why do…you…you look…so…sad…?"

The lissome teenage girl with ebon hair reaching down well past her shoulders, a pale complexion, pouty lips compressed into a tight, joyless grin and a small nose that twitched with anxious irritation regarded Asashi oddly as her mocha-colored eyes widened in unhidden astonishment. "W-What are you talking about?" she heard herself stammer quietly. "D-Don't…don't you remember? W-what…what you said…what you…_told_ me?"

The older woman's dark eyes seemed far away as they lazily traced a path to Tsukina's own.

"I…I remember coming…coming down t-the stairs…hearing y-you screaming…ch-chasing after you," Asashi answered in a broken, disoriented voice. Pausing only long enough to weakly lift a hand from the bed to place upon the bandage-wrapped ones of the girl sitting next to her, she continued on afterward. "I…I c-crossed the street…to…to look for you. C-Called out…called out your name… W-Why…why didn't you a-answer…me, Tsukina? W-Why?" Tears were beginning to glisten wetly in her brown eyes, giving them a glossy and innocent look that somehow seemed wrong on the woman's hard, no nonsense face. Tsukina could feel a hard lump of emotion forming in her throat as she glanced deeply into those eyes.

"Look," she began in a mousy voice that hardly seemed loud enough to be heard. "I…you and I…we…w-we…were talking…a-about…about – "

A firm knock at the door to Asashi's room thankfully interrupted Tsukina's stutter-filled ramble. Pulling her gauze-swathed hands away from Asashi's curtly, the dark-haired girl rose from the chair in a sudden show of relief to be freed from what she had been about to say. Giving the woman on the bed another smile full of lies, Tsukina made her way over to the door slowly. There was another knock from outside, this time a bit more forceful than the last. Reaching out uncertainly, she stopped when she realized the state that her hands were in. Sighing, she backed away from the door and said in as low and audible voice as she could, "Yes, please come in."

There was a slight pause before the stainless steel doorknob twisted to the left and the wide metal door pushed open leisurely. When it had parted enough, a head with close-cropped blonde hair poked in cautiously. "Am I interrupting?" the woman asked in a whispering tone.

Tsukina shook her head as she turned back toward the chair that was positioned next to the bed Asashi occupied.

"No," she returned coolly with another lie. It was amazing how easy it was becoming, to lie…to make excuses…to avoid the…truth. "No, I…I was just keeping my…my…m-mother…" _She is NOT my mother!_ "…company. That's all. Uh…can I help you with something?"

The woman at the door pushed it open the rest of the way and walked respectfully into the room. Once in, she allowed the hydraulic support above the heavy door to pull it closed. For a brief, fleeting moment, it was the only sound to be heard in the room. A loud _clicking_ signaled that the door had shut all the way. And again, there was only silence. Then, the older woman standing before Tsukina broke it abruptly.

"Yes," the blonde-headed woman answered in a louder, more authoritive voice as she reached into the inside of her well-worn, leather bomber jacket; pulling out something black and wallet-like. She raised it carefully and flipped it open with practiced ease to reveal a silvery badge. Tsukina could feel her heart begin to beat faster. "I'm Sergeant Justine Mitchell of the Portland Police Department," she continued, flipping the badge case back up and returning it to the jacket's inner pocket. "And I'd like to ask you a few questions about the boy who attacked your mom."

* * *

_As the opening chant of Himekami's_ **Kamigami no Uta** _begins, Maniwa comes to the end of his equation. The chant ends as he looks up with startled eyes, then everything goes white…only to start clearing up as the main music begins and the camera descends through the clouds to an overhead view of Portland, Oregon. The song picks up as we are treated to a typical busy day in downtown Portland – cars at stoplights, buses and lightrails moving to and from, children walking to school; people in general. Then the camera focuses in on a black-haired boy standing alone at a corner gazing down at a small picture in his hand. The light changes and he starts to walk across the street. Then the camera pans down to his shadow to show that it is that of Lil' Slugger. The focus is placed back on the boy as he walks past a dance studio with a Japanese girl bending and stretching inside. The focus goes to her as she continues with her exercises. Her eyes linger on a backpack in the corner, then stops as her mother comes down the stairs. The camera focuses on both their shadows to show that they are those of Lil' Slugger. As the camera pulls back to outside the dance studio, it refocuses on a gay couple as the stride by laughing and holding hands until they get to entrance of the coffee shop they were going to. The camera pans down to their shadows to show two Lil' Sluggers holding hands, then letting go and pulling them away from each other. The camera focuses back on the couple as they enter the coffee shop. The camera then pulls away in a blur of motion and slows to focus on the interior of a classroom were a nun is waving around a ruler menacingly at her students. Her shadow shows Lil' Slugger waving around his crooked bat. The camera pulls up and away from the class and goes through the window to focuses on a car going by and stays with it. Switching to an inside view, we see a woman with close-cropped blond hair talking on a cell phone as she guides the car toward the police precinct. An outside camera view shows the car pulling up in the parking lot of the station and stopping. The camera then focuses on the pavement as the car door opens and we see the shadow of Lil' Slugger as the one under the woman's feet as she gets out. As the music nears its conclusion, the camera recenters on downtown again and shows that everyone walking around has shadows of Lil' Slugger. The camera then pulls back into an overhead view of Portland. The song comes to an end as the camera pulls away even further to reveal that the entire city is covered with a giant shadow of a laughing Lil' Slugger. Everything fades to black and the Japanese Hiragana for _**PARANOIA AGENT**_ appear and glow red with the words _**2ND VISIT**_ under them in English. Then they too fade to black._

This opening montage was done to the music of **Himekami's** excellent **_Kamigami no Uta_** **(Song of the Gods) **from his _'Best of…'_ Collection.

* * *

**EPISODE**

**THREE

* * *

**

**THE TELEVISION**

"…_Was rumored that something similar happened in Tokyo about two years ago. Do you think that the recent rash of street assaults that have been plaguing Portland lately have any connection?"_

"_Well, the events in Tokyo have always been the object of some debate. With everything from boys with bats and giant monster blobs to pink plushie toy dogs being the cause for the hysteria that gripped the city. But I don't think that's the case here."_

"_So, you're saying that there's no connection at all between what's happening here and what happened two years ago in Japan?"_

"_Rumor and paranoia caused the event in Tokyo to happen. Nothing more. Though, now that I think about it, the hysteria over that strange little dog toy, in all likeliness, may just have contributed to the delirium that nearly destroyed the city."_

"_But, the possibility of the rumored street attacks there _could_ have been a contributing factor, right?"_

"_Yes, if they did happen, they could have. But even if that was the case, what we are currently experiencing here is really nothing more than common delinquency – perhaps even some sort of copycat. Someone with little regard for human life who is no better than the 'monster' that supposedly destroyed Tokyo…"_

**THE RADIO**

"…_Give me that crap! That's the problem with our society now! Reliance on conveniences to take our minds off our troubles and worries. Television, radio, video games, books, internet? All of them are just ways for us to deny the reality of everyday concerns. When we can't face what's bothering us, we hide behind media – entertainment or otherwise. Denying the truth and living in a lie, that's what our new world has become…"_

**THE POLICE PRECINCT**

"…_So, you heard about what happened right?"_

"_What?"_

"_You mean you haven't hear about the newest one?"_

"_Newest one?"_

"_Jeez man, are _you_ behind on the precinct news! There was another street attack lastnight."_

"_Aw man, no shit?"_

"_Yeah. This time it was a dance instructor from the Forest Park area."_

"_Damn man, what the fuck is going on around here? That's the fourth victim in as many days! Who the fuck is doing this?"_

"_Don't know man, but this one's just as bad as the others."_

"_Oh man, you mean that she's…"_

**THE NEWSPAPER**

_The Oregonian, Page 1 Story: 'Mary Bennett's Newest Novel Sets High Standard For Fictional Writing'._

…_And while commercial feedback and reception has been steady, it is expected that her newest book could set a new standard for how a fiction novel is written. It's being said that by many readers that 'Reverie Hill' creates a world so vivid, alive and full of feeling that it's hard to put it down. If post sale totals for the reported time it's been out are any indication, Mary Bennett's newest work could become the highest selling novel released after…_

**THE COFFEE SHOP**

"…_Don't really feel safe anymore. I mean, with everything that's been happening."_

"_Yeah, it seems that the only safe place now is in your home…oh, wait a minute. Didn't the first attack happen there? In that man's home?"_

"_No, it was the two kids. You know, the ones from Lincoln High."_

"_Hold on, I thought it was three. Wasn't it three who were attacked? Two girls and a boy?"_

"_Uh-uh, it was only two boys. I don't think there was anyone else there."_

"_Well, either way it goes, I won't be letting my kids go anywhere by themselves. Not anymore. Things are just getting too crazy out there."_

"_I agree with you. But what would drive someone to do something like this? Hitting people in the head for no reason?"_

"_Probably someone who's been watching too much TV or some kid who's been playing too many violent video games or…"_

**INTERNET CHATROOM**

_Morely: The Golden Shoes!_

_SOPWITH123: The Golden Shoes!_

_maromi's right hand: tha golden shoos_

_UNSEEN510: the golden shoes!_

_Morely: The Golden Shoes, yes! But we need more! Much more!_

_SOPWITH123: More?_

_Morely: Yes. More than what we have here._

_maromi's right hand: well, tha more tha merriar!_

_UNSEEN510: jeez! learn how to spell! and i can get more! no probs!_

_Morely: Yes. More. Get more! Need more before the fun begins!_

_SOPWITH123: But when will the fun start, Morely?_

_Morely: Soon. Very soon._

**A STREET CORNER**

"…_Oh what a cute picture! What is it?"_

"_Denial."_

"_Excuse me?"_

"_That is a picture of denial."_

"_But…it, uh…looks like a…a dog."_

"_It may look like a dog, but it _is_ denial."_

"_Uh…okay. So how many do you have? My twins would absolutely adore these!"_

"_Just that one. The only one left…"_

_**oOo**_

"Of course I understand, dear," Ashe Knolan replied easily into his cellphone as a thin line of sweat beaded across his forehead. "I don't think that Tim should be exposed that kind of nonsense either. We all know how the church community feels about the subject." Adjusting his cell carefully as he placed his other hand against the wall, Ashe smiled broadly as he continued his ritual morning exercise fervently. "No, as long as that man is a teacher at my son's elementary school, he _won't_ be going back. In that, I think we can both agree." Ashe's breathing became heavier as he upped the pace of his exercise, the salty drops of perspiration giving off a light tickling sensation as they traced a path down his sweatshirt covered back. He held the cellphone tighter as it began to slip from his grip. At that, he grimaced. "Well then, the people on the school board are a bunch of fucking idiots. And so are the parents that support their decision to let that man continue to teach there. Truth be told Lizzy, I don't know _what_ the world is coming to."

Ashe grunted stiffly as a familiar sensation crept into his torqued muscles. A smile teased on his lips. It was a feeling he knew all too well. One that he had been expecting.

"Yes," he returned into the cellphone as he stifled another grunt trying to escape his mouth. "I know about Father Richards' invitation to dinner and I already told him that we'd be there." Ashe paused for a moment to catch his breath, listening to his wife go over the babysitting arrangements and clothing choices as another grunt touched his ears. Ashe could feel his entire body tense as he forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. The sweat on his forehead grew. His muscles knotted. The sweatshirt clung to his body like a wet nightgown. "No, not her. I've heard that she was pregnant or something. And I won't have some gutter tramp like her watching my son. What do you mean 'where did I hear that'? From Becca of course, you know, _your_ best friend. No, I don't think it's just a rumor. Well, whatever. Just find someone else. I don't want that trash in our house or anywhere near our son. It's as simple as that." Ashe gripped the phone tighter as more grunts and pants caressed his ears. He could feel his knees begin to weaken as he pushed past the point of no return. His entire body was shuddering; with both an incredible sense of completion and an overwhelming anticipation that made his muscles ache that much more. On the other end of the cellphone, Lizzy continued on with her annoying and pointless conversation about what they should be wearing to the dinner with Father Richards. Ashe could feel his patience growing thin.

"Lizzy…Lizzy…_LIZZY!_" he exclaimed tiredly into the cell's small, almost invisible receiver. "Be quite and listen to _me_ for a moment. Thank you. Now, it doesn't matter what you pull out for me to wear. Just make sure it's casual and not too dressy. I should be home at about…oh, say six-thirty, traffic permitting. Make sure that everything is ready to go when I get there. Oh, and make sure that you find someone else to look after Tim tonight. I don't want that _whore_ in my house. Do you _understand_ me? Good. Now, I have to go. Bye hon."

Lowering the thin cellphone from his ear, Ashe depressed the 'end' button with his thumb, flipped it closed and tossed it onto the pile of dirty towels near his feet. As he did, he could feel his body quiver again with anticipation. This time, however, he didn't try to hold in the grunt that had worked its way up his throat. He let it out excitedly. Pulling his other hand away from the wall, Ashe wrapped it – along with the other – around the pale waste of his 'exercise' partner.

"God," he quipped in a partially restrained voice, digging his slender and manicured fingers into his lover's hips. "She can be such a fucking burden! It's like she needs me to lead her by the…the…the nose every…every…every…oh fuck! Oh yeah! Right there! Right fucking there! Yeah…oh yeah! Keep clenching those…those… _Oh fuck yes!_"

Ashe could feel that familiar warmth between his legs as he began to thrust harder into the soft flesh of the person on all fours before him. A twisted sensation of longing and lust inched its way up his spine as his knees started to buckle. The deep and heavy moans coming from his lover made Ashe's lips curve up devilishly; made him push into that moist softness even harder. Those moans turned into hard grunts of satisfaction then perverted into screams of 'more' and 'faster', which drove Ashe into a near orgasmic delirium. With a loud groan of his own, he shoved himself one more time into the shuddering and naked body kneeling in front him, then collapsed onto it's cool, sweat-covered back in complete satisfaction. The person beneath him let out a weak, shallow moan that echoed the contentment that Ashe was feeling. For a long moment, they both laid there – draped across the locker room bench of the Norsham Men's Fitness Center and Gym – in near total silence; with only the sound of deep breaths being taken to interrupt it. Then it was broken.

"That…that was…that was fucking incredible," the man lying beneath Ashe commented breathlessly.

Ashe lifted a shaky hand and used it to stroke the back of his lover's neck tenderly. The man under him shivered slightly, bringing a weak smile to his face. "Yeah, I know. Am I good or what?"

The man lying on his stomach across the cool wooden bench stifled a bitter laugh.

"I wasn't talking about the sex, Ashe," he muttered after taking another deep breath. The other man's voice was now carrying an edge to it, sour and resentful. "I was talking about how you can act so high and mighty with that holier-than-thou attitude of yours."

Ashe's smile faded as he stopped stroking the back of the man's neck abruptly. He heard himself sigh in exasperation as his eyes rolled toward the lockers. He knew _exactly_ what was about to come out of the other man's mouth. And Ashe _really_ wasn't in the mood to put up with it. Not today of all days. "What the fuck is wrong _now_, Thomas?" he growled angrily, pulling himself away from his lover's cool body slowly. "What the hell is up with the attitude all of a sudden? You sure didn't have one while I was fucking your ass silly."

Thomas just lay there, not bothering to turn around and face Ashe as he answered the questions directed at him. "That's just the problem, Ashe," he returned quietly, the tone of his voice still reflecting some of that earlier heat. "You 'fucking my ass silly' while you're sitting there not only discussing dinner plans with your wife, but badmouthing a man that I consider to be a very close friend. How in the hell can you say any of that shit with a straight fucking face while you're plugging _me_ in the ass and liking it just as much as I do?"

Ashe stood up, gazing down at Thomas with hard and narrowed eyes. It wasn't the first time that they had had this conversation. In fact, it seemed as if they were having it more often as of late. To say that he was getting sick of Thomas's incessant whining and bitching would be a gross understatement. Dammit, why didn't the man understand his place in the overall scheme of Ashe's life! Why did he have to continue to push at him, why did Thomas insist upon pursuing such a senseless argument each and every time they had sex with one another? Either way it went, he was very sure that it _wouldn't_ be the last little quarrel that they had over their so-called 'relationship'.

"Listen," he began in a low, incensed voice that more than reflected the bitter thoughts forming in his head. "I have a life _outside_ of you, Thomas. You can't expect me to endanger it just because _you_ happen to be friends with the local gay teacher. I'm sorry that it pisses you off, but I can't threaten my family's happiness or my connection with the church just because _you_ can't accept that. You knew what you were getting into well before we started having sex with each other."

Bending down, Ashe retrieved one of the cleaner towels from the floor and draped it across his shoulder with a casual ease. But, his hazel eyes never left Thomas's back.

"What you want," he continued stonily. "I can't give you Thomas. I _won't_ give you. You should know that by now. I still love Lizzie and my son is the most important thing in my life. Both of them are. All you are is a fling, a way to satisfy this ungodly lust inside me. I told you that after the first night we spent together. But you kept coming back, time after time." He paused momentarily to catch his breath and adjust his position next to the bench before resuming his mild tirade. "If you did so just because you _thought_ that I'd fall in love with you and abandon my family, you were sadly fucking mistaken."

Taking another moment to gaze down at his watch, Ashe sighed when he realized what time it was. Turning away from Thomas's prone form, he made his way toward the nearby group of shower stalls.

"Look, I've got to get ready for work," he uttered nastily over his shoulder. "We'll have to deal with this at another time. Get yourself cleaned up and get out of here. Use the back exit. I don't want anyone to know that you were here. That would be the _last_ thing that I needed, rumors about me being gay to get out. I don't need the added aggravation in my life."

Not saying anything else afterward, Ashe walked away from Thomas briskly not realizing that the man lying across the bench had been weeping silently the entire time.

_**oOo**_

Tsukina stared vacantly into her styrofoam cup of orange juice as the cool air from the hospital cafeteria's air conditioning vents flowed lightly across her skin. She sat there silently, saying nothing to the woman with whom she shared the table; gauze-covered hands wrapped lightly around the white cup before her. The topic of their conversation had forced an uncomfortable chill to work its way into her body and up her spine. It was an unsettling feeling born from a fear that she could not even _begin_ to understand. Thinking about what had happened, thinking about…_him_, about that strange boy – the one in her head now – from lastnight seemed to do that to her. The entire thing had seemed so…so surreal. _Unnatural_. Why hadn't the boy with the bent bat hit her? Why did he go after…after her…after Asashi? A soft sloshing sound drew her attention away from the disjointed reverie. Across from her, on the other side of the small table, Sergeant Justine Mitchell of the Portland P.D. stirred in the powered creamer that she had just added to her cup of coffee, giving Tsukina a light grin before lifting it to her mouth and taking a sip.

"So," she said after lowering the cup back down to the table. "The orange juice here is _that_ good, huh? That's okay; my coffee isn't really that much better. What is it with hospitals and decent coffee? Or decent _anything_ for that matter?"

Gazing up with a startled expression and a slight blush, Tsukina gave the older woman a weak smile.

"Uh…no," the girl said modestly as she enclosed both of her hands around the styrofoam cup and began to lift it to her mouth. "I…I'm just…I'm just…worried. That's all."

Justine flashed the Japanese girl across from her a sympathetic, reassuring smile as she slid the cup of coffee aside and quietly replied, "About your mom?"

Tsukina could feel her jaw clench tightly.

_She is NOT my mother!_

The cup in her hands twitched and trembled as her already weak grip around it slipped even more.

_Don't you understand, Tsukina? He left me here alone to raise a daughter! One that wasn't even my _own!

The orange liquid within slopped around wildly; some of it splashing to the smooth top of the table as the stark white cup nearly fell from her gauze-swaddled hands.

_Who am I?_

"P-Please," Tsukina uttered miserably as she lowered the cup to the table as quickly as she could without spilling anymore of its contents. Again the denial, the lies came swiftly to her lips. How long would she be able to deny the truth? How long would she be able to hide away from the pain that was slowly carving a hole in her heart? "Can…can we please just l-leave her…leave h-her out of this? I-I mean, she…she's already been through so m-much. J-Just the…the thought of h-her lying on…on that bed, it…it makes me w-want to…to cry. I've b-been through so much…lastnight…that…that boy…"

Through the gauze, she could feel the dull touch of another hand upon hers.

"Sure," Justine voiced calmly as she lightly patted the top of Tsukina's injured left hand.

Tsukina lowered her eyes to the table dejectedly, and then mumbled a weak, "Thank you."

For a long moment that was all that was said, with no other words passing between the two women. Tsukina kept her eyes locked on the tabletop, doing whatever she could to avoid the policewoman's understanding yet piercing gaze. It wasn't that she didn't _want_ to answer the woman's questions. She would do almost anything to bring that violent little maniac to justice. It was just that those questions the policewoman wanted answers to just brought up _more_ questions to torment her already overfull mind. Questions that she both did and didn't want the answers to. Questions that only the woman resting in Room 560 could answer. But how could she continue to avoid them?

"Did he carry…a bat?" Justine's lowered voice sternly spoke out against the silence, pulling the dark-haired girl from her rambling thoughts.

Tsukina's head rose quickly to the other woman's cerulean eyes as that uncomfortable chill tickled at the base of her spine.

"W-What?"

Justine's eyes narrowed slightly as she slowly pulled her hand away from Tsukina's, then, along with the other, steepled them both under her chin. Her face still retained a warm and comforting look of understanding, but it seemed…harder for some reason. "Look," the police sergeant began in a more serious tone as she crooked her head noticeably to the right. "I know that this is very difficult for you, especially with what happened to your mother."

Tsukina tried not to wince at the remark.

_That woman IS NOT my mother!_ In the back of her mind, a shadow stirred slowly and began to take shape.

"But," Justine continued, heedless of Tsukina's reaction to her own internal and conflicting thoughts. "I need you to put that aside for just a few minutes and answer my questions. Can you do that?"

The long-haired girl said nothing as she looked back down at the tabletop with widened eyes, breath seeming to grow shallow with each intake of air. The woman across from her frowned, her patience wearing thinner by the second. "Would it help you to make a decision if I told you that there were three _other_ attacks exactly like the one on your mother?"

The older woman's words didn't touch Tsukina. She just sat there, eyes large and glassy; chest heaving up and down heavily as her breathing increased to near short gasps.

_Stop saying that! She _isn't_ my mother!_ Something hard and golden glinted in the dark as an unnaturally large, white smile pushed through the ebon in her head.

"Dammit Tsukina, this isn't some kind of fucking game! If you know something, you have to tell me! There were two boys attacked just the other day, in broad daylight no less, same MO as your mom. And a man brought in that same evening was also suffering from similar injuries! With your mother, that makes four people with the same type of head wound! All of them the result of blunt force trauma to the cranium, and each one of them, with the exception of your mom, now in a coma! You and your mother are the only ones that whackjob didn't knock senseless! You and her are the only ones who can identify that little shit! If you don't help me, Tsukina, more innocent people might get hurt! Do you want that? Huh? Do you!"

_No, no, NO! Stop calling that…that woman my mother! She isn't! She's a fake! She's not real! SHE'S NOT REAL!_ The vague image unhurriedly began to move toward her, still smiling, still holding that heavy golden object.

"Tsukina," Justine called out, concern echoing through her voice all of a sudden. "Tsukina? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

But the girl couldn't hear her. There was another sound in her ears, one that drowned out everything else. A sound that wasn't just in her mind anymore.

_Skitch…skitch…skitch…skitch…skitch…_

Moaning loudly, Tsukina clamped her hands down around her ears as she burst up from her chair. The force of her standing so quickly caused it skid back across the waxed and buffed floors of cafeteria easily. In front of her, Justine rose from her own seat; lips mouthing out silent questions that Tsukina could not answer. Over the loud noise of inline skates striking against pavement that were ringing in her ears, echoing through her mind, voices blared out questions that forced her to face that grim reality she was trying so hard to hide away from. Asashi Hishimoto. The boy with the crooked bat. Questions, but no answers. _Never_ any answers.

_About your mom?_

"Shut up," she mumbled under her breath, staggering away from the table and around the cafeteria like a mad woman.

_Did he carry…a bat?_

"Why didn't he hit me? _WHY DIDN'T HE HIT ME!_"

_I know that this is very difficult for you, especially with what happened to your mother._

"ShutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupSHUTUP!"

_Would it help you to make a decision if I told you that there were three _other_ attacks like the one on your mother?_

"SHE ISN'T! SHE ISN'T! _SHE ISN'T!_"

_There were two boys attacked just the other day, in broad daylight no less, same MO as your mom._

"STOP LYING! SHE'S A FAKE! SHE'S NOT REAL!"

_With your mother, that makes four people with the same type of head wound! All of them the result of blunt force trauma to the cranium, and each one of them, with the exception of your mom, now in a coma! You and your mother are the only ones that whackjob didn't knock senseless!_

Swinging around to face the police sergeant with wild eyes, Tsukina lowered her hands from her ears and glared furiously at the older woman. The sound of those disembodied rollerblades was still roaring within them.

"SHE'S NOT MY MOTHER," she screamed, tears beginning to form in her dark brown eyes. "I DON'T HAVE A MOTHER! I DON'T EXIST! I WAS NEVER BORN! JUST LIKE…JUST LIKE _HIM!_" Tsukina began to laugh hysterically, low and unnoticeable at first; growing steadily louder as the seconds went by. Then, she began to stammer unintelligibly between the rough laughter. "B-Bent…bent like a dog…a dog's leg… G-Gold… Just like…like his…his…his…r-rollerblades… I don't…don't have…a…mother…? W-Who…am…I…?"

Her breathing had become irregular, her chest rising up and down too quickly to keep her laughter sustained. Tsukina's brown eyes widened a fraction more than they already were, then rolled up into the back of her head as she passed out and collapsed forward from the lack of oxygen. Justine rushed toward her as fast as she could, barely making it there in time to catch Tsukina in her arms as she crumpled loosely to the ground. In front of her, the door leading to back of the cafeteria flew open as the cooks in the back poured out to see what all the commotion in the dining hall had been about. Holding Tsukina in her arms tightly, Justine gazed over at them with fire and urgency in her eyes.

"Don't just stand there _gawking_ at me," she yelled out angrily, adjusting the young Japanese girl's weight as she settled herself as comfortably as she could on the tiled floor. "Go find a doctor! A nurse! Any _fucking_ body! Just do it fast! HURRY!"

Without questioning the close-cropped haired woman, a number of the cooks scattered, running out the side and main doors that led into the sterile white hallways in search of help for Tsukina. And as the world around Justine became a bustle of activity, as the harsh cacophony of a dozen of voices chased away the calm barrenness of the silence before; a bare whisper from the pale lips of the girl she held caressed her ears lightly.

"_He comes…for…those…who are…cornered…_"

_**oOo**_

For the second time since he had left the fitness center, Ashe straightened his expensive blue tie as he gazed up into the rearview mirror of his Lexus. He had washed away the sin and guilt of his vile, disgusting actions; free of the ungodly lust that slept within him. He was pure again, once more a man to be trusted and a man of healing. Ashe smiled broadly at the reflection of himself in the mirror, gray-blue eyes staring right back at him. Was it any wonder that he had everything he did now? A beautiful wife, a handsome and talented son, membership to one of the most respected churches in Portland, a great career and a large gathering of friends and family that were willing to do _anything_ for him. He was the epitome of the American Dream, a fine example of everything that made his country so great. _He_ was what it meant to be American.

"It's the top of the hour, Portland. I'm Marvin Greenly with your NewsRadio 750 KXL midday report. Our top story this afternoon…"

Taking his attention away from his preening, Ashe reached down smoothly and lowered the volume on the car stereo. Afterall, what need did he have to hear of everyone else's problems when his life was going so great? Why did he need to be brought down by the troubles of the lesser half of society? Wasn't it enough that he dealt with _those_ types of people every day when he went to work?

"…Police took the girl's parents into protective custody early last month – although they initially lied and said her boyfriend had tried to kill them. Now, authorities are looking for the teen. The mother, who wishes to remain anonymous, later told detectives that her daughter had attempted to assault herself and her husband with a fireplace poker. Local authorities have placed an APB out on the girl…"

Sighing as he reached the freeway exit that would put him on Pettygrove Street, Ashe casually checked the other lanes before flipping on the signal light and steering his golden Lexus toward the feeder road. What was the world coming to? Children beating their parents? Mothers bringing criminal charges against their daughters? He was glad that nothing like that happened in his world of perfection. Lizzie and Tim were the perfect example of what a wife and child _should_ be. It was a shame that he couldn't say the same thing about Will, his eldest son. But even with that tiny blemish of imperfection, something like the sad tragedy that he had just heard about could _never_ happen to his family. It would be unthinkable.

"…If you are a young teen who has run away from home or has been living on the streets because no one understands, let Double Life Choices offer you a place to…"

With a hard grunt escaping his throat, Ashe leaned down quickly and pressed the scan button on the car stereo's pristine and polished face. That was the last thing he wanted to hear about! A wretched sanctuary for all those homeless gays that were _rightfully_ put on the street by their parents! It was what they deserved for being perversions and abominations for all that was normal in the world. It was their sickening stain that was helping to drag down the once great nation he lived in! Their diseased kind was not needed, nor was it wanted! Sometimes Ashe just wished that they could all be wiped from the face of the Earth. Just like that foul, hideous lust within him.

"…In a decision that is sure to cause controversy with the parents of the religious community, Lamont Dale has been allowed to keep his job as a teacher amidst allegations and rumors of him being homosexual. A spokesperson close to the school board committee had these comments…"

Ashe's face twisted up angrily as he pressed the button again. They were going to let that fag continue to work there! Were they stupid! What in the hell were they thinking! Behind him, a car horn blared annoyingly. Looking up from the stereo, he practically sneered when he realized that the light had turned green. Pulling his hand up to the steering wheel, he gripped it tightly and pushed down harder than he wanted to on the gas. The golden car jerked forward awkwardly.

"…Will be sponsoring the annual Gay and Lesbian Rights March this weekend…"

Ashe tried to ignore the other horns on the road behind him as he reached down once more and hit the scan button with a stiff finger. The stations on the stereo changed again.

"…The debate over gay marriages has again become the hot topic in the city council, with a push now coming from local celebrity…"

He stepped on the gas harder, steering wildly around a slow-moving car in front of him. His finger pushed the scan button again.

"…Hishimoto was the latest victim in the recent rash of brutal street attacks that has already left three people in serious to critical conditions at…"

He hit the button again.

"…It was two years ago today that the Japanese city of…"

And again.

"…In a startling turn of events…"

And again.

"…It was revealed…"

And again.

"…A local doctor…"

And again.

"…Was having…"

And again.

"…A gay affair…"

And again.

"…With his patient…"

And again.

"…I know…"

And again.

"…Everyone knows…"

And again.

"…I know…"

In a sudden burst of uncontrolled anger, Ashe pulled his finger away from the scan button and then twisted the smooth knob on the stereo's face as hard as he could. It broke off easily in his trembling digits. Eyes widening, he yanked his hand furiously away from the car stereo and flung the knob against the dashboard. It bounced once, then fell into the passenger seat.

Within seconds, the only sound inside the car was the low hum of the air conditioner and his own heavy, labored breaths. But even with the cool air blowing across his forehead, a slight sheen of sweat still formed there. And somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice continued to taunt him as he guided his golden Lexus down Pettygrove Street toward the Hob Hill Shopping District.

…_I know…_

_**-o-**_

By the time Ashe arrived in the parking lot of Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital, most of his anger had dissipated. The drive through the shopping district had reminded him how good he had it and how perfect his life was. He had no need to worry about anything. No one knew what he did behind closed doors, so to speak. No one knew about Thomas or the sexual relationship he shared with him. And no one ever would.

Before he left his car, Ashe had retrieved the volume knob/off switch from the passenger side seat and placed it carefully inside the glove compartment for safekeeping until he could get it fixed. Sighing as he did, he knew that him breaking the stereo knob would cause a little trouble with Lizzie, who hadn't wanted him to get the car to begin with. But he wasn't worried. Lizzie was as good as putty in his hands when he put on the charm. That winning smile, that twinkle in his eyes; that would be all it took for Ashe to end his wife's tirade and put her on her back where she belonged. Before the night was up, she would have forgotten all about why they had been arguing in the first place.

Closing the glove compartment and smiling broadly to himself, Ashe reached into the backseat and retrieved a folder full of paperwork that he had taken home the night before. Afterward, he pulled his keys out of the ignition and opened the door to the dull, overcast day. Stepping out into the lukewarm breeze, Ashe stretched momentarily before closing the car door and beginning a brisk stride toward the hospital's entrance. As he walked away from the Lexus, he paused for a moment to point a small black object at the end of his keychain at the golden car then pressed one of the buttons. A loud _bwee-beep_ echoed through the airy parking lot. The car alarm set, Ashe resumed his casual pace toward his place of employment.

Upon passing through the double doors and entering the lobby, Ashe began his daily ritual of greeting his fellow workers. He did so with the ease of a recorded message.

"Good afternoon, Florence. How's your son doing?"

"Oh hello, Doctor Knolan. He's doing great. Thanks for asking!"

"No problem. Hey Mark, how's it going? Still having problems with that patient of yours?"

"Hey Ashe. No, not anymore. The sedative has finally worn off and that detective and shrink are in there with her right now. Looks like she'll make a full recovery and ID the man that kidnapped her."

Ashe nodded like he really gave a damn.

"That's a good thing to hear. Hope they nail that bastard. I'll see you later and remember we – "

"Doctor Knolan? Oh Doctor Knolan, thank God you're here!" a loud voice called out through the lobby.

Turning, Ashe found himself facing big, heavy-set woman wearing a cook's apron of all things. He recognized her. She was one of the women from that god-awful cafeteria. What the hell did she want with him?

"Yes" he question stiffly, hardening the smile on his face so it wouldn't falter. "What is it? What's wrong?"

The cafeteria woman almost seemed to be out of breath when she reached him. Ashe regarded her heaving form with cool eyes. _Serves her right for being such a gluttonous pig and not watching what she crammed down her throat._ He almost laughed out at that thought, but stifled it quickly as she opened her pudgy mouth to speak.

"We…We need…you in the…cafeteria…a girl…she just…collapsed…"

It figured. Exactly what he _didn't_ want to deal with so early in the day. Inwardly, he wondered which it would be this time – bulimia or anorexia? Or was it some escapee from the Drug Ward? Why did he always end up with the low-profile cases? Why did he always end up with the dregs of society?

"Alright," Ashe stated with feigned interest as he patted the large woman lightly on the shoulder. "Take me to her."

_**oOo**_

Justine was still holding Tsukina when one of the cooks arrived with a tall, young-looking man holding a folder stuffed full of paperwork. She regarded him suspiciously with icy blue eyes as he walked up casually and knelt beside herself and Tsukina. He gave her a warm smile, while asking politely, "What seems to be the problem, miss?"

The woman with short, blond hair almost scowled up at the man as she retorted, "It's _sergeant _and are you _supposed_ to be a doctor? 'Cause you sure don't sound like you're very interested in helping this girl!"

The dark-haired man only broadened his smile. It was a sickeningly sweet and condescending smile that made Justine clench her jaw in hidden aggravation. Right at that moment, she knew that her and the so-called physician would not be getting alone in any conceivable way. There was just something…_wrong_ about him for her to feel comfortable in his presence.

"Of course I'm here to help, Sergeant," the man stated mildly as he reached down toward Tsukina's face with his finely manicured fingers and use his thumb and forefinger to lift up her eyelid enough to peer in. "Why else would I be here? So, you mind telling me what happened?"

The hard look on Justine's face softened somewhat as she gazed back down into the slack face of Tsukina Hishimoto.

"I don't know," she began quietly, knowing that most of what was coming out of her mouth was a blatant lie. "One minute we were talking and the next, she was freaking out and screaming about not having a mother. Then she passed out and I caught her before she hit the floor. That's all I know."

The doctor pulled his hand away from the Japanese girl's smooth features and signaled the nurse who had accompanied him. He then gave Justine a reassuring smile before turning away from her to issue orders to the long-haired woman standing by the doorway.

"Get me a gurney! And tell them to prep a room." The nurse departed quickly as the doctor readjusted the folder of paperwork in his other hand. Returning his blue-gray eyes to the police sergeant, he reached over and squeezed her shoulder compassionately with his free one. "She'll be alright, Sergeant. It looks as if your friend here passed out from hyperventilating. Any other serious injury was averted when you caught her. But still, we'll set her up in a room and observe for an hour or two just to be sure. I don't think that – "

Without any kind of warning, Tsukina's eyes shot wide open and they turned right to the doctor's surprised face. Her mouth almost seemed to twist into a snarl as she uttered two quiet words that froze him in place.

"…I…know…"

Then, just as quickly, she passed out again, the muscles in her neck slackening and her head gently lolling back to the left in the police sergeant's lap. The entire moment that the odd little event had occupied in time had left both her and the doctor equally stunned, if not totally confused. But to her eyes, it seemed as if Tsukina's brief brush with consciousness had done more than just stunned the doctor by her side. Justine couldn't be too sure, but she was almost positive that the doctor's countenance had paled considerably since his initial arrival. It was also very clear to her perceptive eyes that worry now creased his formerly cheerful face. But…why?

Before she could question him, however, or ask him why what Tsukina said had unsettled him so much, the doctor was up on his feet and moving as hastily as he could to doors that led out into the hallway. Not bothering to give a reason for his departure or even wait for the gurney to arrive to retrieve Tsukina, he disappeared behind the closing double doors without a word to anyone.

_**oOo**_

Twenty minutes later, Ashe arrived at his office on the second floor of the northwestern side of the hospital. After he entered, he immediately closed the door and leaned back-first against it. Despite the coolness of the enclosed space, he could still feel thin beads of sweat running almost imperceptibly down along his forehead. He could feel his hands trembling. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His mind was whirling at a rapid pace, questions forming with no answers.

…_I…know…_

The girl's voice echoed loudly in his head and Ashe's blue-gray eyes widened. The sound of his own heartbeat grew disgustingly cacophonous in his ears. Dropping the folder full of paperwork, Ashe raised his hands to them in an effort to close out the horrible noise. But he couldn't. It was still there. The lie beating within him. The lust hiding inside of him. The truth that he could not hide from. The truth that could destroy him if it ever got out. The truth that could destroy his perfect life.

…_I…know…_

The loud toning of his cellphone almost startled Ashe out of his shoes. He flailed about, almost like an octopus caught in a fishing net, as he tried to find the pocket he had placed his cell in. Fingers finally coming to rest against it's smooth surface, Ashe groped the small, sleek cellphone and pulled it as quickly as he could. Lifting it shakily to his ear after he had flipped it open, his voice trembled slightly as he spoke into the small receiver.

"Y-Yes," Ashe asked in a distressed tone as he forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. "Who…who is it?"

The voice that came from the other end of the call, the one that he heard through the earpiece, didn't help to settle his already frayed nerves.

"Ashe? We really need to talk about what happened this morning. Can we…can we meet somewhere this evening? Before your dinner, I mean. I think that we should clear the air between us before this gets out of hand."

The girl's words rung in his head and Ashe felt his whole body tremble.

…_I…know…_

"Are you crazy!" he questioned roughly, anxiously pushing himself away from the door and maneuvering toward his desk to ensure that no one passing by outside heard his conversation. Ashe did what he could to push away the paranoia and fear that crept through his heart. He did what he could to block the girlish voice that had taken up residence in the back of his head. "Why in the _hell_ are you calling me here! I thought I told you _never_ to call me here, Thomas!"

His lover's words faltered, becoming low and nearly inaudible. But they were loud enough…_familiar_ enough to Ashe's ears that he could pick out what he was saying. What caressed his eardrums echoed that which was ringing in the back of his own head.

"I…I know…"

Ashe lost all of his composure in a single flash of fury-driven words that he screamed into the receiver of the cellphone, heedless and uncaring of who heard him outside.

"_SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE HELL UP! WHAT THE HELL DO _YOU_ KNOW, YOU STUPID FAGGOT! CALLING _ME_ HERE? AT MY JOB? ARE YOU TRYING TO RUIN MY LIFE, THOMAS? HUH? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT? WELL, YOU WON'T! I WON'T LET YOU! YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT, YOU LITTLE COCK-EATING BASTARD! I'LL NEVER LEAVE LIZZIE FOR YOU! SO YOU'D BETTER GET THAT THROUGH YOUR SIMPLE, FAGGOT MIND! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? DO YOU? I MEAN IT THOMAS, IF I EVER – "_

And just like that, Ashe realized what he had done, what he had been _doing_. His blue-gray eyes widened in horror as he lowered the cell from his ear and looked down at it with a crazed expression of fear etched across his sweat-drenched face. He dropped it to the carpeted floor like it was a poisonous snake that had just bit him. What had he done? What had he let that gay prick _make_ him do? His heart pounded in his chest. His worrying mind raced. Had…had anyone heard him? Did anyone…

Without wasting another thought on the fearful question tickling at his brain, Ashe rushed for the door, grabbed the knob, turned it and flung it open. Stepping out into the hallway like a madman, he swung his head around wildly; trying to look everywhere at once. There were people everywhere he looked. Ashe's heart almost skipped a beat. The damned hallway was full of people – nurses, other doctors, patients, family members visiting those patients; it was a horrifying scene that literally dropped Ashe's jaw. They were all looking at him; faces blank and eyes accusatory. What…had…he…done…? Suddenly, the world around him bent and twisted. Ashe couldn't believe what he was seeing. The hallway warped and contorted as the all the people in it did the same. His eyes grew wider as the distended and deformed figures before him pointed crooked fingers in his direction. Sweat beaded across his brow as Ashe fell back toward his office door.

"N-No," he moaned shakily. "Stay…stay back. Get away from me!"

"Dr. Knolan?"

Suddenly the world around him returned to normal. Ashe practically had to stifle the scream that had managed to work its way up into his throat. He barely refrained from clamping to hands over his mouth to keep it that way. What had he been doing! Was he losing his mind? He had to get control of himself. He had to get control!

Taking a deep breath, he hesitantly turned himself around in preparation for the truth that he did not want to confront. Who had heard him? His heart felt as though it were about to burst from his chest. What was he going to do? He had to protect his perfect life. He couldn't lose it. He had worked too hard for that! He would do anything to preserve it! Anything!

"Y-Yes," he answered shallowly, gaunt and pale face coming eye to eye with a short, black and white clad woman who was smiling at him warmly. "H-How can I…I help you?"

The woman offered a hand and said, "Hello, I'm Sister Rachel Shelby. Father Richards sent me to confirm the dinner plans for tonight. He would have come himself, but a late meeting with Bishop Cardigan prevented him from doing so."

For a long moment, Ashe stared at the nun dumbly. The young woman in the habit lowered her offered hand and took an uncertain step back as she eyed the dark-haired man oddly.

"Dr. Knolan," she questioned gently. "Are you…alright?"

"Did you hear anything? Coming from my office, I mean," he blurted out. "Anything at all?"

Sister Rachel regarded Ashe strangely for a second or two, and then answered.

"No, I'm afraid I didn't."

"How long were you standing there," he pushed, eyes widening hopefully.

The nun's face was beginning to take on a disheveled expression.

"About a minute or two, I believe. I'd only just walked up before you came out of your office. If I might ask, what's this all about?"

Face brightening, Ashe ignored the habit-clad woman's questioning glance as he looked around the hallway with renewed vigor. And that was when he noticed something that he had not before. No one was paying him the least bit of attention! Everyone who was in the hallway or the nurse's station at the end of it was going on about his or her _own_ business. They didn't even seem to care about the near nervous breakdown he'd had earlier while on the cell with Thomas. No one knew! No one knew _anything!_ And everything was normal. His perfect life remained as such! Even the annoying voice of that Japanese girl seemed to have disappeared. The dark secret he was so fearful of escaping was again locked in the shadows of his weary mind.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Sister," Ashe drawled sincerely as he spun around again to face the nun, placing a hand warmly on her shoulder. "But I've been having a most…difficult day today. Can you please forgive my earlier rudeness?"

The nun didn't seem to know how to respond, the strangely cocked smile on her face a clear sign of her bewilderment. "Uh…of course, Doctor Knolan," she stammered uncertainly. "The Lord Almighty knows that we have days that seem only to test us and the strength of our spirits."

Ashe grinned toothily at the nun as he nodded at her words and began to slowly guide her toward the open door of his office.

"Amen to that, Sister," he returned enthusiastically, running a slim hand through his neatly trimmed and expertly cut hair. "Amen to that."

_**oOo**_

Somewhere hidden away from the prying eyes of Portland, Oregon, a deft pair of hands gracefully typed away at a keyboard. On the wide, fingerprint smudged screen of the monitor, the last lines of a crudely written email printed out slowly. A smiled touched thin and pale lips as the figure pulled a hand away from the keyboard and took hold of a pink mouse with a cartoony dogface drawn across the top of it. Moving the same style of pointer toward the 'Address List', a stiff finger clicked on the left mouse button that resembled a big black and white eye. Maneuvering the pink dogface cursor, the hand controlling the mouse clicked on all the small boxes next to each email address listed, then closed the window and moved down to the 'Send' button. It was clicked with no hesitation.

The figure then leaned back in their computer chair and waited for the fallout from the bomb that they had just dropped. In a matter of minutes, a perfect, happy life was going to be ruined.

_**oOo**_

His meeting with Father Richards' envoy had taken Ashe much less time than he would have figured. After he had retrieved everything dropped earlier, Ashe placed the cell and the paperwork on his desk then pulled out the chair for the nun. When he had seated himself behind his desk and gotten comfortable, he instinctively began their discussion. What the brief conversation between them really boiled down to was opinions and thoughts on local events and the generous donation that the Father was expecting from Ashe and his family. Throughout it all, he smiled and laughed where he was supposed to and became serious and Christian-minded when he had to, but from his point of view he could care less about any of it. Afterall, Father Richards and the entire parish of the St. Paul Center for Christianity were just a means to an end, a way for him to keep his own life at the peek of perfection and free of the problems that seemed to destroy all the other families in Portland. In the end, that was all that truly mattered to Ashe. And if that meant buttering the man's palm every now and then…well, so be it.

"Well," Sister Rachel began as she rose from the chair in front of Ashe's desk. "I shall take my leave of you. I will tell Father Richards that I met with you and to expect you at the agreed upon time. If there is nothing else?"

Ashe took a moment to look up from the flat-screen computer monitor that he had just switched on and replied, "No, Sister. I think we pretty much covered everything that we needed to. I'll see you at Sunday Services. I'd walk you out, but there are a few things that I need check up on before I begin my rounds. So, if you'll pardon my rudeness."

The young woman in the habit nodded her head in understanding as she turned to make her way to the open door. Pausing in the doorway, she turned to face Ashe and smiled lightly.

"May the grace of God be with you, Doctor Knolan."

Ashe smiled back as he returned his attention fully to the monitor, saying, "And with you to, Sister. Oh, could you close the door on your way out?"

She didn't say anything as she gave another quick nod and pulled the door shut quietly behind her. Once it was closed, Ashe leaned back in his chair and gently grabbed hold of the black and gray mouse. Guiding the onscreen cursor toward a white folder icon with a red cross on it labeled 'Daily Schedule', he used his forefinger to double-click it open. As he did, his cellphone toned loudly on the outer edge of the desk. For a brief moment, a cold chill tickled at the base of his spine. He hesitated. It continued to ring loudly, beckoning Ashe to pick it up. A thin sheen of sweat began to form on his forehead as he lifted a trembling hand. Pausing again, Ashe tried to maintain his positive outlook. Afterall, what did it matter if it was Thomas again? No one had heard anything from their initial conversation; and he had been screaming at the top of his lungs. His perfect life was still very much in tact and not even Thomas could ruin it with his pathetic little threats. What did he have to worry about?

Laughing to himself, Ashe reached out the rest of the way and retrieved the still toning cellphone. Flipping it open easily, he confidently pressed the 'talk' button and raised it to his ear without concern.

"Yeah," he answered in a cool, self-assured voice. "What is it this – "

"What the _hell_ is the meaning of this, Ashe?"

That assured look vanished as his eyes widened fearfully. It...it wasn't Thomas's voice! It was…it was Lizzie's!

"H-honey," Ashe stammered nervously as he tried to keep his mouth from hanging open. He could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. It was growing louder in his ears again. The lie. The lust. The truth. "W-what's…what's wrong? You s-sound…upset."

In the back of Ashe's head, that little voice returned; mocking and almost gleeful as it uttered out those hated words.

…_I…know…_

"Don't play dumb with me Ashe!" his wife screamed, sounding as if she were close to tears. "I _saw_ that fucking email! _Everyone_ on our street got it! Everyone in the _fucking_ neighborhood! Everyone knows, Ashe! _Everyone knows!_"

For the second time in the day, Ashe dropped the cellphone to the carpeted floor of his office as he immediately grabbed hold of the mouse, closed out the 'Daily Schedule' window and guided the cursor to his 'Email Inbox' icon. Below him, his wife's shrewd voice sounded tinny and far away, but no less angry and troubled.

"Ashe," he heard her shout over the small speaker on the top half of the cell. "Ashe, you bastard! Where the hell are you! You better not have hung up on me, you sorry son of a bitch! Ashe! _Ashe! ASHE!_"

But he ignored her. Just like he always did when they argued. It was practiced ease to do so. In his chest, his heart beat unnaturally fast and loud. It almost drowned out all the other sounds in his ears. All but one.

…_I…know…_

He clicked on the email icon.

…_I…know…_

The window opened up faster than he wanted it to.

…_I…know…_

With a trembling hand, Ashe maneuvered the arrow-shaped pointer the phrase 'New Messages'.

…_I…know…_

There was a one in parentheses beside the words.

…_I…know…_

The pounding of his heart was deafening in his ears. He hesitantly clicked the text with a nervous finger.

…_I…know…_

The message opened up and Ashe's heart beat even faster. There was a paperclip icon just below the title, but above the letter itself, which indicated an attachment.

_Everyone knows!_

His breath escaped barely parted and chapped lips in short gasps. His hand moved the cursor up to the paperclip icon. His finger left-clicked the mouse.

_Everyone knows!_

The file downloaded. The image opened up on the screen.

_Everyone knows!_

Ashe's jaw slackened, his mouth hanging wide open. His hand gripped the mouse tight enough to make the plastic creak.

_Everyone knows!_

There before him, bathed in the iridescent glow of his monitor, was he and Thomas. Arms locked in a loving embrace around each other's neck. Kissing.

…_I…know…_

The lie.

_Everyone knows!_

The lust.

…_I…know…_

The truth.

_Everyone knows!_

All displayed before Ashe's twitching eyes and gaping mouth, sweat practically pouring down his face in long, neat rivulets. His…his perfect life… Ruined… By… By…

In a fit of psychotic rage, Ashe grabbed hold of the flat-screen monitor with both hands and swept it off his desk.

_**-o-**_

Moments later, Ashe marched down the sterile white hallways of the ground-level hospital floor, murder on his mind and a target already firmly locked in his crosshairs. _Thomas!_ It had to be that stupid faggot! He was the only one who could have gotten hold of _that_ picture! He was the only one who had _access_ to it! It was _him_! He was trying to…NO! He _had_ ruined Ashe's perfect life! Everyone knew now! His whole neighborhood knew that he was a faggot too! His life…his life was over!

As he rounded the corner that led into the lobby, something caught his eye. Florence and Mark, standing behind her nurse's station looking down at something on her computer's monitor. The two of them were wide-eyed and Ashe felt an icy chill of fear work its way up his spine as those maddening words echoed in the back of his head.

…_I…know…_

Followed by…

_Everyone knows!_

Right about then, the two of them looked up together, eyes locking on him. Ashe watched helplessly as they leaned close to one another and began to whisper. What were they…? Did they…? They did! They knew too! They knew about him and Thomas! They were talking about that damnable picture! He spun away from them in a near daze of delusion and emerging insanity, blue-gray eyes scanning the rest of the lobby. Everyone was whispering to everyone else!

Ashe's mind broke. The world around him, the hospital lobby and the people within it warped, twisted and distorted again. Their heads grew larger than their bodies, eyes turning white with no pupils. Their arms and legs were distended as they pointed accusatory fingers at him. Ashe's eyes widened in unhidden terror. They were screaming at him!

_There he is, the faggot doctor!_

_Keep him away from MY child!_

_Yeah, there's no telling WHAT diseases he has!_

_I can't believe I let HIM examine me!_

_You'll NEVER get into Heaven, FAG!_

_That's right! God punishes people like YOU!_

_I bet he has AIDS!_

_Fag…!_

_Man-bitch…!_

_Cocksucker…!_

_Assfucker…!_

The dark-haired man shook his head wildly as he continued to spin around. The lobby was a blur of washed out colors and harsh words that echoed loudly in his ears. There was no hiding from it! There was no escaping it! He was trapped! He was trapped with people who hated him! People who hated him because he…he… He needed a way out! He needed to escape!

To his left, a malformed pair of double doors parted, revealing the open area of the Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital's parking lot. Without hesitating, Ashe ran for the gaping doors. The pale light of a gloomy day beckoned him, called out to him.

He had to get away! He had to escape! He had to find a way out!

The angry voices of those he once considered colleagues faded behind him as he passed through the doubles doors and left the hellish lobby far behind. Ashe ran a few steps farther before falling to his knees to catch his breath. He had made it! He was safe! He had escaped! Now he could find that bastard Thomas and punish him for what he had done to his perfect life. He was going to make that son of a bitch suffer!

Pushing himself up from the discolored ground, Ashe frowned slightly as a faint _skitching_ noise grew louder in his ears. He had time enough to turn his head and see a boy on rollerblades wearing a red cap smile broadly as he swung a twisted, golden baseball bat straight into his face.

Then everything instantly went black.

_**-o-**_

Back in the hospital lobby, the two people behind the nursing station desk looked over at each other with curious eyes and then gazed back at the double doors that Ashe Knolan had just ran through.

"You think he knows, Mark," Florence asked the taller man.

He nodded.

"I guess so. I don't think I've ever seen him that excited before. Hell, it was like he was in a different world just now."

Florence clapped her hands together happily and said, "To think, being honored in such a way. It's really been a long time coming."

Mark smiled smugly as he looked back down at the computer screen. A second later, Florence joined him.

"Yeah," he said afterward. "I think he's getting everything he deserves."

On the monitor before them, it read:

_**Congratulations Doctor Ashe Knolan! You have been chosen to be the recipient of Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital's Heimlen Award for Excellence in Professional Humanitarianism this year! You have been recognized for your honesty, courtesy and good-heartedness…**_

_**oOo**_

"More pancakes, Jason?"

Jason Bennett looked up from his hand as that odd heavy feeling vanished slowly. His mother just looked down at him with a warm smile and cocked her head to the left somewhat. That smile – _her_ smile – it seemed to ease away all of his worries.

"No Mom," he said merrily, forgetting completely about the tingling sensation in his hand as he rose from the table. "I'm stuffed! I can't eat another bite! Besides, if I don't leave now, I'll be late for school."

Mary Bennett set the plate of perfectly made pancakes down on the table and gave her son a caring look. "Well, okay," she said, kneeling down to retrieve his backpack from the floor. Rising and handing it to him, she curved her lips into an unflinching smile. "If you're sure. I guess you'd better hurry along then. Stay out of trouble and remember to come straight home after school."

Jason took his backpack from her hands and gave her an impish expression, preparing to make his smart-alack reply when something on the television caught his attention.

"And finally, there was another violent street assault yesterday afternoon in the parking lot of Legacy Good Samaritan Hospital. The latest victim, whose name is currently being withheld by authorities, was reportedly a doctor there and is in critical condition. This most recent attack brings the number up to five who have been assaulted in the past week. As with the other cases, the Portland Police Department have no leads or suspects. More on this developing story tonight at ten."

Jason just stared at the television for a long moment, then looked back down at his hand. It began to shake. Was he…was he responsible for –

"Jason," his mother said gently as she grabbed his trembling hand in her own and stroked it soothingly. "Don't worry about that. You have nothing to do with it. It's not your concern. It's not your fault. None of it is your fault. Do you understand me? Nothing that has happened is your fault. Just forget about all of that and get to school, okay?"

Pulling his eyes away from the television, Jason grinned back at Mary, leaned up, kissed her on the cheek and said quietly, "Thanks Mom."

Turning from her, he slung his backpack over a shoulder and walked out of the kitchen. A few second later the front door opened and closed. Mary sighed lightly, then undid her apron and pulled it off, laying it across the table. Seating herself in a chair adjacent to the one her son had been sitting in, she casually reached down and picked up a local magazine that she had been reading while getting his breakfast ready. On the cover was a picture of a family standing in front of the not so modest building that was the home of the St. Paul Center for Christianity, all of them smiling happily. Below them in big white letters it read, **"A Perfect Life"**.

* * *

_As the opening chords of Susumu Hirasawa's _**Sub Usual**_ begins, we can see the faces of all the main characters of _**PARANOIA AGENT: 2ND VISIT**_ being shown in tune with the music. As the tempo and beat of the music changes, the camera pulls back to show that they are all walking around in a circle with dazed expressions on their faces. They are walking around six chairs. There are seven of them. Apparently, they are involved in a game of Musical Chairs. As the beat of the music changes, the seven of them rush for the chairs. Only one is left standing and Lil' Slugger comes out of nowhere and whacks the person a good one, knocking them out and to the ground. Then like an old movie reel, the scene seems to skip and repeats itself, only this time with five chairs and six people. The same thing keeps happening. They sit when the beat of the song changes and Lil' Slugger takes out the one who is still standing. It goes on like this until there's only one chair and two people left. As the looping musical track come to an end, the two of them are still circling the last chair with that same dazed expression while an impatient Lil' Slugger stands behind them with a big smile on his face, anxiously tapping his bat on his shoulder. The music stops and the last two characters rush for the chair. But before either of them reaches it, the screen fades to black…_

This unsettling closing montage was done to the music of **Susumu Hirasawa's** very freaky sounding **_Sub Usual_ **from the _Paranoia Agent OST_.

* * *

_**A television sitting in a lone circle of light flickers and comes alive with static. A moment later, the image clears to reveal a black-robed Maniwa, with tresses of white hair peeking out from under his hood, sitting behind a black-clothed table smiling. He raises his arms regally into the air and states grandly…**_

"…**THE NEW HOROSCOPES FOR TONIGHT ARE…"**

_**GEMINI!** In the shadow of a lion's fall, you dance the dance of a life unknown with your partner. Back and forth you twirl in a maddening duet of sin and repentance. But an unexpected bump on the floor makes you stumble, revealing your lie to all around. You panic! For in the eyes of your Maker, you prove to be a foul stain against his great design. Hark! Your partner in this dance grows disenchanted and rebels, forcing you to choose. But you can't. Perhaps the scorpion approaching from the darkness will help…_

_**SAGITTARIUS!** Ah! The boar's path grows ever more twisted! It is full of brambles and thorns of sharpened thoughts that bring pain with but a touch. The dog offers comfort and you accept. The brambles in the path are cleared away as if they never existed. Should you not heed a warning the next time? Before you, a virgin sleeps; trapped in a castle of glass with no way in or out. Within lies the answers to questions of riddles and portents of danger. But how do you get in? In the distance, a building shines in the light coming from above. Before it, a scorpion waits patiently. The path of the boar continues…_

_**The television screen flickers once, twice and then abruptly shuts off.

* * *

**_

**Author's Note & Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the world of Satoshi Kon's excellent _Paranoia Agent_.** Wow, is this chapter long or what? Man, I tried to trim and cut this chapter down some. Seriously! But, it still came out longer than before! ARGH! Oh well, for those of you who made it through all of this, I offer an apology. This chapter truly is TOO MUCH! LOL! But still, for some odd reason, I consider this one to be the most in tune with **_Paranoia Agent_**. Why? Couldn't really tell you, actually. There's just something about Ashe and his drive to work. The way his tuning of the radio works to only add to his paranoia about his 'relationship' with Thomas. In a way, I guess this chapter could be seen as homage to 'The Golden Shoes' episode of the original series. Both Ashe and Yuichi seem to let the smallest things bother them and destroy their reality, sending them both spiraling into fear and, finally, paranoia. At least, that's the impression that I get. Also, I would like to thank _IsthatyoulilsluggerWHACKyup_ (love the penname!) for their review. Hopefully, you and everyone else will come back for Chapter/Episode 4 of **_Paranoia Agent: 2nd Visit_**!

Well, that's it for me…BYE!

Terryll Preston


	4. Episode 4

**(DISCLAIMER: The following chapter of _Paranoia Agent: 2nd Visit_ contains mature subject matter. You have been warned...now please read on!)

* * *

**

The handcuffs around her wrists bit deeply into flesh rubbed raw by the cold metal. How long had she been suspended like this? Held up by her arms high enough that only the tips of her bare toes touched the rather warm floor. How long had she been displayed there; like a piece of meat being sold at a market?

_On your knees!_

A sharp _crack_ split the air and she winced as the hard tip of a leather whip brutally caressed the marred skin on her back. The woman moaned hard against the saliva-stained ball-gag secured tightly in her mouth. Her body trembled in excitement; in anticipation of the next strike from the whip she called 'Mistress'. Just the thought of its harsh kiss quickened the beating of her heart, made her toes curl with eagerness.

_Down, down!_

Another _crack_ and the whip - her 'Mistress' - kissed her naked flesh again. Her eyes rolled up into those heavy eyelids in complete ecstasy, long rivulets of saliva oozing seductively from the sides of her gagged mouth. It dropped thickly to a smooth, lacquered stage beneath her arched toes already stained with her sweat and other bodily fluids. Her feet were practically drenched in the sticky wetness. And she couldn't care less.

_Beg for it!_

Her 'Mistress' paused and the woman squirmed in complaint, pulling so hard against the handcuffs that they began to draw blood. Long, lazy lines of crimson trickled from the scarred flesh of her back and small beads of salty sweat dripped into the wounds bringing a barely acknowledged stinging sensation. She screamed pleadingly into the ball-gag, thrashing about wildly to draw yet another hot kiss from her 'Mistress'. But none came.

_Plead for it!_

The leather half-mask that adorned her face clung around her head like a python wrapped around its prey. So tight, she could hardly stand it. She felt as though she might pass out at any moment. But that didn't matter to her. In fact, it only heightened the desire burning in her heart. Only the pain mattered to her, the hard, hot kiss of her 'Mistress'. _That_ was what she needed. _That_ was what she craved.

_Speak the words!_

Without warning, a taut hand clenched a fistful of her long hair roughly. The woman felt her head being yanked back callously and a weak moan of delight escaped her gagged mouth. It wasn't her 'Mistress' this time. It was her 'Mistress's' master. The fisted hand pulled so hard at her hair that she thought it would be torn from her scalp. It made her body quiver with even more excitement; it left her eyes nearly vacant in spasms of erotic pleasure.

_Know your place!_

"Do you crave more, Beauty," a husky, feminine voice whispered hotly in her ear. The woman named 'Beauty' could feel the exhilaration caused by that voice running warmly and wetly down the inside of her thigh. But she couldn't answer. All she could do was moan and twist her body this way and that. The syrupy, lustful voice lashed out at her again, accompanied by another yank of her hair. "Do you want 'Mistress' to kiss you again? _Do you!_"

_Say it, girl!_

Beauty answered as best she could. A muffled plea pushed past the ball-gag. Her head instinctively pulled forward _against_ the pressure being applied to it. Her scalp screamed in pain. Her body shuddered in delight. Her thighs rubbed together wetly, sweat and other fluids making them slick. Beauty squirmed and yanked her arms hard against the handcuffs suspending her above the stage as an answer to 'Mistress's' master's question.

_Scream it!_

That hard hand released her tangled hair as impassioned, breathy words touched Beauty's ear. "You writhe here like you're in fucking heat! So full of lust, that it's oozing down your legs! Your back is red and bleeding with 'Mistress's' love, yet you beg for even more? My dear Beauty, what you beg for…'Mistress' is more than willing to give!"

_Yell it!_

The thick voice vanished, replaced a moment later by her 'Mistress's' loud _crack_. Leather met flesh again, sending deep waves of burning pain lancing throughout Beauty's body. Her indigo eyes were vacant with endless pleasure. Her body shivered with delight at each _crack_ that struck her whelped back. Loud and muted moans of sheer ecstasy poured from her ball-gagged mouth.

_Beg for forgiveness!_

Beauty's stifled cries of desire echoed all throughout the dim, smoke-filled club. They stretched beyond the thumping gothic music and past the enthralled fans watching her twist and wriggle with unrelenting lust. They pushed past the unseen barrier that separated late night from early morning. Beauty's shameless moans for pleasure, muffled screams for more slicing through the invisible wall between Saturday and Sunday.

_Sinner!_

And through all the ecstatic agony, through all of that burning pleasure caused by her 'Mistress's' kisses; a lone, shimmering tear traced an erratic path down the contours of Beauty's red-with-yearning cheeks and fell lightly to the stage beneath her clenched toes. Shame met and intermingled with sin in a widening puddle under her feet as the woman called 'Beauty' howled for more.

_SINNER!

* * *

_

_As the opening chant of Himekami's_ **Kamigami no Uta** _begins, Maniwa comes to the end of his equation. The chant ends as he looks up with startled eyes, then everything goes white…only to start clearing up as the main music begins and the camera descends through the clouds to an overhead view of Portland, Oregon. The song picks up as we are treated to a typical busy day in downtown Portland – cars at stoplights, buses and lightrails moving to and from, children walking to school; people in general. Then the camera focuses in on a black-haired boy standing alone at a corner gazing down at a small picture in his hand. The light changes and he starts to walk across the street. Then the camera pans down to his shadow to show that it is that of Lil' Slugger. The focus is placed back on the boy as he walks past a dance studio with a Japanese girl bending and stretching inside. The focus goes to her as she continues with her exercises. Her eyes linger on a backpack in the corner, then stops as her mother comes down the stairs. The camera focuses on both their shadows to show that they are those of Lil' Slugger. As the camera pulls back to outside the dance studio, it refocuses on a gay couple as they stride by laughing and holding hands until they get to entrance of the coffee shop they were going to. The camera pans down to their shadows to show two Lil' Sluggers holding hands, then letting go and pulling them away from each other. The camera focuses back on the couple as they enter the coffee shop. The camera then pulls away in a blur of motion and slows to focus on the interior of a classroom were a nun is waving around a ruler menacingly at her students. Her shadow shows Lil' Slugger waving around his crooked bat. The camera pulls up and away from the class and goes through the window to focuses on a car going by and stays with it. Switching to an inside view, we see a woman with close-cropped blond hair talking on a cell phone as she guides the car toward the police precinct. An outside camera view shows the car pulling up in the parking lot of the station and stopping. The camera then focuses on the pavement as the car door opens and we see the shadow of Lil' Slugger as the one under the woman's feet as she gets out. As the music nears its conclusion, the camera recenters on downtown again and shows that everyone walking around has shadows of Lil' Slugger. The camera then pulls back into an overhead view of Portland. The song comes to an end as the camera pulls away even further to reveal that the entire city is covered with a giant shadow of a laughing Lil' Slugger. Everything fades to black and the Japanese Hiragana for _**PARANOIA AGENT**_ appear and glow red with the words _**2ND VISIT**_ under them in English. Then they too fade to black._

This opening montage was done to the music of **Himekami's** excellent **_Kamigami no Uta_** **(Song of the Gods) **from his _'Best of…'_ Collection.

* * *

**EPISODE**

**FOUR

* * *

**

**THE TELEVISION**

"…_And as you can see here Kate, the gathering of Asian-Americans – mainly Japanese immigrants – continues to grow. I'm standing here in the Natural Gardens section of the Portland Japanese Garden where a statue – called a Ksitigarbha or Jizo Statue – sits. Everyone who has come here is offering silent prayers to the statue, which is supposed to 'embody a spirit which protects people'. As you know, today marks the eighth night of the two-week 'Shinjitsu no Kinen' or 'the Commemoration of Truth' event, believed to be some sort of memorial for those who were killed two years ago in the Incident in Tokyo. Yet, with the increased turn out, I can say that it seems the recent rash of street attacks has only further served to bring even more Japanese-Americans to this place of apparent solitude…"_

**THE RADIO**

"…_That was 'Twisted Transistor' from Korn. Awesome song! Even better if you see them perform it live! Remember people, you heard it here on 94.7 Alternative Portland! I'm –"_

_(SQUAWK)_

"…_The next track is from…"_

_(SQUEAL)_

"…_And they'll be playing here live at…"_

_(SQUAWKING FOLLOWED BY A HARD BUZZING SOUND)_

"…_You must not run away…"_

_(HEAVY STATIC)_

"…_A quick break and a word from our sponsors…"_

_(HIGH PITCH WHINE)_

"…_You must not turn your back on him for a second…"_

_(MORE STATIC WITH INTERMINGLED SOUND OF SINGING CHILDREN)_

"…_He comes for those who have been driven into a corner with no way out…"_

_(SQUEAL)_

"…_At Golden's Sporting Supplies, our selection of bats are second to none! We'll cater to any little slugger you might have around the house looking to…"_

_(SQUAWK)_

"…_You must not talk about him…"_

_(MORE STATIC INTERMINGLED WITH A GIRL'S DARK GIGGLE)_

"…'_Golden Shoes' opens in theaters everywhere this Friday…"_

_(A HARD SQUEAL FOLLOWED BY STATIC)_

"…_You must not think about him…"_

_(BROKEN VOICES SHOUTING OUT UNINTELLIGIBLY AMIDST THE STATIC)_

"…_Song from the Goo Goo Dolls called, 'Don't Beat My Ass (With A Baseball Bat)'…"_

_(CONTINUOUS SQUAWKING)_

"…_Rumors sustain him…"_

_(STATIC)_

…Thing's don't look too good to me.

I'm feeling out of luck

And all because of swollen glands

And just one stupid (the 'f' censored out of the word 'fuck')…

_(INTERRUPTING STATIC)_

"…_Imagination…"_

_(HEAVY SQUEALING)_

…And he beat me 'bout my head with a baseball bat

Don't kick my ass

Don't kick my ass

Don't kick my ass with a baseball bat…

_(WHINING AND STATIC)_

"…_Paranoia nurtures him…"_

_(HIGH-PITCHED SQUEAL)_

…And aghast at what I found

The latest social disease that been going around

I'll kick your ass (I'll kick you ass)

I'll kick your ass (I'll kick you ass)

I'll kick your ass with a baseball bat bitch…

_(LOWERING STATIC)_

"…_You…must…not…run…away…"_

**THE POLICE PRECINCT**

"…_Attacked me with a goddamned bat! Did you hear me! The little shit tried to kill me with a fucking bat!"_

"_Sir, screaming won't help –"_

"_FUCK YOU! You weren't just hit repeatedly with a goddamned bat! How do you expect me to act!"_

"_Sir, please calm down and try to start from the –"_

"_That stupid little fuck! All that goddamned TV. Those stupid, fucking cartoons and –"_

"_SIR!"_

"_WHAT!"_

"_Shut the HELL up! You need to be quiet and wait until I ask a damned question if you want some help! Do you understand me!"_

"_Y-Yeah…"_

"_Good! Now, first off, what's your name?"_

"_Joseph Bauer."_

"_Good. And your current residence?"_

"_I live at…"_

**THE NEWSPAPER**

_The Portland Mercury Headline: Recent Street Assaults Believed to be the Cause of Increased Cases of Domestic Violence…_

**THE COFFEE SHOP**

"…_Heard it was a great way to escape."_

"_Really?"_

"_Yes. And with everything that's been happening lately, Lord knows we can all use a good escape!"_

"_Tell me about it. Oh, did you hear the latest?"_

"_No, tell me!"_

"_You won't say I told you if anyone else asks, will you?"_

"_Of course not, of course not."_

"_Well, I've heard that the street attacker got someone in the Pearl District."_

"_Are you serious?"_

"_Yes. This comes straight from my husband. From what he said, it sounds like the attacker almost beat him to death. With some sort of golden golf club, I think. Or was it a bat? I don't remember. All I know is that the poor person is supposed to be in a coma or something."_

"_Oh my goodness. That's terrible!"_

"_I know. And I also heard that…"_

**INTERNET CHATROOM**

_SERVER EXPERIENCING AN OVERLOAD._

_IP TRAFFIC RESTRICTED._

_PLEASE LOGOUT WHILE WE ATTEMPT TO FIX THE PROBLEM AND TRY AGAIN LATER._

_THANK YOU FOUR YOUR PATIENCE._

**THE MAGAZINE COVER**

_Is 'Japanimation' Harmful To Our Children? Do Shows Like 'Naruto' And 'My-Hime' Inspire Violent Thoughts and Acts In Our Youth Culture?_

**THE PORTLAND JAPANESE GARDEN**

"…_Man, it sucks that the chat's still down. But oh well. God, are they STILL at it?"_

"_Yeppers."_

"_Their praying won't help, will it?"_

"_Nope."_

"_Yeah man, nothing can stop it!"_

"_Shutup dumbass! Do you want the cops to hear us?"_

"_Oh…uh, sorry…"_

"_Jeez."_

"_Either way, it's still gonna happen. That's just a fuckin' given."_

"_Heh. Like praying is gonna make people forget, make them forget who he was."_

"_Yeah, they're so stupid."_

"_Tell me about it, especially my…"_

_**oOo**  
_

"I can't believe it," the uniformed police officer said disdainfully. "Five people in about as many days. Who the hell is doing this? And why?"

The officer standing beside him looked up from his cup of coffee in disgust.

"Jeez," he uttered miserably. "They call this shit coffee?"

The first officer gaped at him with wide eyes.

"There's a fucking lunatic out there attacking people in broad fucking daylight, and _you're_ worried about a goddamned cup of _coffee!_"

The policeman holding the small styrofoam cup cut his narrowed eyes over at his partner darkly, then replied none to kindly, "Hey, I only worry about what's in my face, what I can see in front of me. And right now, this diarrhea in a cup is the only thing I'm worried about. Besides, why the hell are _we _worrying about it? Didn't the bigwigs assign this case to some broad?"

The other officer shifted slightly and tried not to groan.

"Yeah, Justine Mitchell. She's been working it ever since the third attack. You know, the girl and her mom."

The man holding the cup of coffee stopped his arm in mid-lift to his mouth, a perplexed expression dawning on his wide face.

"Her? Wasn't she involved in that shit with the Jap they brought in for questioning a couple of days ago?"

The first officer nodded stiffly, saying, "Yep."

"What the fuck," the other policeman muttered as he turned to face his partner fully for the first time since the conversation had begun. "Are you telling me that Internal Affairs let that crazy bitch go? After she beat that man into unconsciousness?"

The first policeman lowered his voice considerably, taking a few seconds to look around the hallway carefully as he replied, "Actually, rumor has it that she put him in a coma. Hit the poor fucker so hard that she almost shattered his jaw. Hell, that's why _we're_ here right now. Guarding his room. She's not allowed anywhere _near_ him until IA finishes their investigation. As far as her still being on the force…" the officer gave a weak shrug "…well, they _say_ they have no proof it was her or the FCC agent who was in there with her. But a lot of us around the precinct think differently. Afterall, that story about him just collapsing to the floor? Pure bullshit."

The officer holding the white cup frowned quizzically.

"Wait. Hold on. I thought it was some guy from the ATF? Rumors around the station had it that the Jap was making plans to sell guns to terrorists or some shit like that. And _I_ heard through the rumor mill that she told the IA investigators the Jap was hit in the head with a baseball bat or something like that. Invisible of all things! Tellin' you man, that bitch is a _total_ whackjob."

The first policeman turned away from the second and resumed his guarding stance, nose wrinkling like a bad odor had wafted up his nostrils.

"Yeah," he said after taking a deep breath and letting it out. "Been that way ever since her partner was killed in that drug sting gone wrong. And no, the rumors are wrong. It was the FCC that sent someone. Apparently, the man managed to hi-jack some major government signal or some shit like that. That's what the FCC was all pissy about and why they sent one of their agents here. From what I heard, he was recalled not too soon after the IA began their investigation. The rumors say that he wasn't even questioned. Perks of working with the government I guess. And what the fuck, man! A freakin' baseball bat? Where the hell did you here _that _bullshit from! And invisible on top of that! Jeez man, have you been talking to that skinny street freak selling those stupid pictures _again? _I told you to stay the fuck away from that guy! He's got some serious baggage in that twisted mind of his. And besides, what in the hell is someone that old doing selling pictures? Feh, his ass should be working somewhere not bothering the people who _really_ work in this town! That or in an insane asylum somewhere! Fucking nutjob!"

The other man with the coffee cup frowned slightly at the mention of the odd street artist who sold those – sometimes disturbing – pictures, but then nodded in agreement. Then he too resumed a stiff guarding pose.

"I guess so," he mumbled. He then closed his eyes and muttered, "And yeah, I know about that freak. But my daughter saw one of those freakin' pics of his and just _had _to have one! What the fuck was I _supposed _to do? Tell her 'no'?"

The other man didn't answer his partner, just shook his head sadly for a moment and resumed his guarding composure as quickly as he could. His partner soon followed suit. The two men then stood there silently to either side of the heavy, brown hospital door that led into the room of Musen Ochiigawa, neither looking at the other. And for a long moment, that was all there was. Silence. Then the heavier of the two raised the cup of coffee to his mouth, took a brief sip and then lowered it back down in front of him.

"So," he began quietly. "Have you heard the new rumor?"

_**-o-**_

Justine Mitchell sat next to Tsukina's bed, eyes downcast and hand limp upon the girl's gauze-covered own. What in the world was going on? First the news of the two street assaults on those highschool boys, and almost immediately after that the attack on that man in his own home. Then, there was another street assault the next night – Asashi and Tsukina – only this time the both of them made it through conscious. And now, not even a day later, there was yet _another _attack; that doctor who had tended to Tsukina before he started to freak out over whatever the girl had said. What _had_ she said? And why didn't anyone else but her and that doctor seem to notice Tsukina's brief brush with consciousness? Just another question in a very long line of questions with no answers. And what about that strange Japanese man, Ochiigawa? How did _he_ fit into all of this? What piece of this twisted puzzle from hell did he represent? He _had_ to fit in somehow. Afterall, he had made mention about a something or other 'bat', hadn't he? And that _should _make him part of the pattern. But what _was_ the pattern? Everything _seemed_ completely random.

She sighed lightly, running an uneasy hand through her short hair. There had to be something that she was missing. Ochiigawa, the two boys, the man; all of them were in varying degrees of comatose as a direct result of their attacks – well, the two boys and the man were; Ochiigawa's 'condition' was a complete mystery in and of itself. Just what _had_ happened to the man? That FCC agent _insists_ that he had just collapsed – passed out – from the pressure of the interrogation and whacked his head on the metal table. But that wasn't what _she_ saw. She'd _never_ forget what she saw on that night. Whatever it was had managed to put her on Internal Affairs' shitlist and bar her from even seeing him. Not that he'd be much help anyway. Hell, even the doctor who had been assaulted earlier in the day was now in a coma. Of course, that brought up _another_ question. Why wasn't Tsukina's mother, Asashi Hishimoto, also in a coma? What made _her_ different? Afterall, she had suffered the same wounds as the others. By all rights, she should also be comatose. But then, there was nothing _right_ about the entire case. In fact, absolutely _nothing_ made any sense!

Pulling her hand away from Tsukina's, Justine gazed down warily at the sleeping girl. And what about her? What about this girl who claimed that Asashi was not her mother? What part did she play in this? It was obvious from the moment that she had started to question her that the girl was not telling her everything that she knew. She was holding _something_ back. But what? And what about that tirade she went on near the end of their conversation. Something about what she had said seemed to stick in Justine's mind. _I don't exist!__I was never born!_ _Just like…him!_ But 'him' who? What in the hell had she been talking about? And why did it all seem to start when she brought up the word 'bat'?

Sighing again, Justine leaned back in her chair and pushed both hands into her bomber jacket's pockets. Her fingers brushed against something inside one of them, a very worn good luck charm given to her by a once good friend. He was gone now, struck down much to soon to be so young. It was something that she tried very hard to forget, something that she knew had been her fault. But every time she thought she pushed it away, every time she thought that she had forgotten about it, the memories of that horrible…event would come back to haunt her. Just like now.

Eyes widening frightfully, she wrapped her hand around the object in her pocket quickly. The wounds of the past slowly began to melt away like so much candlewax. A dull smile emerged on her face as she began to stroke the soft, velvety good luck charm with an idle thumb. Those bad memories always seemed to do that whenever she touched it. What was it he had told her after he'd given it to her?

"_Yeah, it's a bit of a good luck charm from Japan. I got on my last trip back. But I don't need it anymore, not now. So, I'm giving it to you. You seem to need it. No, I really think you do. Just remember. If you are ever feeling bad about something or if something is worrying you, just grab hold of it and you'll feel better in no time. Trust me, it works. Now, what's good here to eat…?"_

That had been the last conversation they had had before the call…before they were given their new assignment. She gripped the object even harder, almost crushing its malleable length in her balled fist. The pain eased, then subsided; and the memories vanished like fog being burned away by the afternoon sun. What _had_ she been thinking about? It was like a half realized dream now, hazy and forgotten. Shaking her head slightly, Justine sat up straight in her chair and pulled her hands from the bomber jacket's pockets. She had to focus if she were going to have any chance of putting the pieces of this odd puzzle together.

Gazing over silently at Tsukina's slumbering form, Justine poised a finger thoughtfully under her chin. A couple of other things the girl had said also had lodged themselves in her mind. What had they been? Wait, she remembered!

"_B-Bent…bent like a dog…a dog's leg… G-Gold… Just like…like his…his…his…r-rollerblades…"_

And there had been something else, hadn't there? At the very end, just as she was passing out, she had uttered it. What was it that she said?

"_He comes…for…those…who are…cornered…"_

Justine's mind was reeling, quietly spinning around nothing that answered nothing. Bent like a dog's leg? _What_ was bent like a dog's leg? That part she couldn't figure out if someone dropped the answer on her lap. Okay, the gold part and the rollerblades she got. Obviously, whatever was 'bent like a dog's leg' was gold just like his –

She suddenly felt a chill of realization shiver its way up her spine. And once it had gone, she almost stood up and kicked herself. It was right there all the time! The answer! Tsukina had given her part of the answer! The bat! It was the _bat_ that was bent like a dog' leg! And it was golden, just like the perp's inline skates! And that got her…got her…absolutely _nowhere!_ That's where it got her.

Slouching back in the chair, Justine grunted out a bitter laugh. So what did she have? A person or persons who liked to wear inline skates and bash people over the head with bent baseball bats. Oh, and the bat was gold. She couldn't leave _that_ out. A very _important_ clue. One that was _sure_ to do what the IA investigation hadn't managed to do yet. Suspend her from the force, and, in all likeliness, earn her some alone time with the department's resident shrink. Like she needed to go back to _him_ again. And just what the hell did 'he comes for those who are cornered' mean?

Draping a hand over her forehead, Justine took a deep breath and released it slowly. If she went to her captain with nonsense like that, he'd probably start to believe the rumors about her too. And that was the last thing she needed. Hell, _he_ was the only thing even keeping her on the force right now! She couldn't go back to him with a disjointed scrap of information like that. It would only make her look even _more_ in need of 'some time off' in his eyes. But what was she to do? She had been on the case since after the third victim. And even after interviewing the man's son – Jason, she believed his name had been – and his divorced wife, it had gotten her no closer to any answers. And now, with Asashi back on medication and her daughter on sedatives for the time being, it looked as though Justine's beleaguered investigation had hit yet another stumbling block.

_**oOo**_

The polished wooden door opened smoothly and a shadowy figure wearing a dark trenchcoat stared deeply into the nearly black interior. Hesitating for only a moment, they bowed their head pensively and entered. The darkness within swallowed them. Reaching out with a trembling pale hand, the figure grabbed hold of the thin door and pulled it closed as they seated themselves on the velvety cushion. It sealed shut with an audible _click_.

The person took a deep, nervous breath before gazing at the interwoven, mesh screen in front of them. To the other side of the partition was a thick, blood-red drape that obscured whatever was behind it. But the figure knew what was being held from their eyes. Absolution. An end to the guilt. Forgiveness from a power beyond their understanding, beyond their comprehension.

The slim figure raised a quivering hand to their shadowed forehead, then lowered it to the right side of their chest and then the left. Afterwards, the person bowed their head and quietly recited the words that had been burned into their mind at a very young age.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned," the figure began slowly and lightly in a distinctly feminine voice. The red curtain pulled aside unhurriedly and a darkened face emerged on the other side. "It has been three weeks since my last confession."

_**-o-**_

_A gangly, teenaged girl sat on the front porch of a yellow, two-story house that was surrounded by a white picket fence. Her shin-length, dull orange sundress was pulled about halfway up her thighs. A boy across the street stood there, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. But she didn't seem to notice or care. She was staring down at a large, red scrape on her pale knee. Her bright blue eyes scanned it curiously. Most girls her age would be crying from a wound like that. Or, at the very least, milking it for all it was worth. But not her._

_With a small, mischievous grin poised on her ovular face, the girl reached down with a lone finger and pressed it hard against the abraised skin on her knee. A stinging, burning sensation raced throughout her body. It should have made her cry out. It should have made her scream out in pain. But it didn't._

_She pushed her finger against it even harder, drawing out pinpoint beads of crimson from the torn flesh. The feeling…the feeling was…indescribable. How could anyone ever cry over something that felt…that felt so good? To her, there was nothing bad about the pain that was making her entire body shudder. Why should she stop?_

"_What in the name of God are you doing!_"

_Smile dropping quickly from her face, the girl yanked the finger away from her injured knee as fast as she could and pulled her dress down back over her legs. The sensation vanished much to her disappointment. But the shadow that loomed over her small form filled her with something to replace it. And icy, gut-clenching fear._

"_I asked you a question," the stern voice from behind her called out roughly. "Now answer me. What were you _doing_?"_

_The girl turned her head slowly to face the man behind her and gave him a weak grin._

"_Nothing Daddy," she lied unconvincingly, brushing aside a few strands of hair that had fallen into her face. "I wasn't doing anything bad."_

_The man bent down angrily and seized her by the arm in a vice-like grip. The boy across the street took the opportunity to make himself scarce as he picked up his dropped wooden baseball and hurriedly ran off._

"_Don't you lie to me!_ _You know what God does to liars and other sinners!_ _Now what were you doing!_"

_The girl's eyes had widened in total fear. The thoughts of those earlier sensations washed away by her father's cruel words. Guilt was now boiling in her heart. Guilt at the lie she had told and the sin she had committed not only a few minutes before. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes._

"_No Daddy," she pleaded as the salty drops of liquid fell from her eyes and ran hotly down her cheeks, "I wasn't doing anything wrong!__I promise!_ _I was being a good girl!_ _I was – "_

_The loud, flesh against flesh sound of his open palm striking her across the face echoed over the porch. The pain of it sent waves of that earlier sensation arching though her body. But it was lost to her. Only fear and shame dominated her mind now. That wonderful sensation was but an afterthought._

"_You were sinning again, weren't you!_" _her father screamed as he shook her almost to the point of making her blackout. "You were sinning like your whore of a mother, weren't you!_ _Letting that boy across the street sniff after you like a dog in heat!_ _I told you, girl!_ _I told you time and time again that if you kept doing disgusting things like that, you'd end up burning in Hell with her!_ _Now, do want that? _Do_ you want that!_"

_The girl looked at her father with terrified, blue eyes; her head shaking wildly at the thought._

"_No Daddy," she cried pleadingly as the tears from her eyes grew heavier. "No Daddy…please, no…I don't want to…I don't want to go to… I'll be…I'll be a good girl from now on…I promise… Just…please don't…please don't make me… Please…"_

_Her father released her arm. And the girl, with shame heavy in her heart, leapt into his arms immediately afterwards and confessed her sins to him._

_**-o-**_

Inside the confessional, the pale woman's hands trembled as she tried to keep them still on her lap. The memories of what she had done, the shame it had caused her sent icy daggers of guilt racing into her heart. Why did she do that horrible thing? Why did it seem as if she couldn't stop herself? Why did it feel as if she had lost her way?

"I…I don't know why…I…I…"

The woman paused long enough to take a deep breath before continuing, trying as hard as she could to find a sense of balance for herself. It was about as easy as she figured it would be.

"I…I was a…a good girl…when I was growing up," she stammered uncertainly as she began to wring her hands together. "M-My father always loved me. He always…always wanted me to choose the right path; d-do what was right by him and the rest of my family. Never to grow up to be...to be like...m-my mother. And I didn't ever want to disappoint him. Afterall, he was _my_ father. And what girl didn't want the approval of her father, what girl didn't want to be the apple of her daddy's eye?"

_**-o-**_

_Bent over her desk, the girl scribbled down the complex Algebra problem from her textbook. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and refocused her dazed attention on the math homework before her. Sleep could wait. Afterall, she had worked long and hard on getting her straight 'A' average in her Catholic School's Advanced Math Class. And she wasn't about to let all that work go to waste because of a few yawns. Besides, her father would be so proud if she brought home another 'A'/'B' report card to him!_

_That last thought made her giggle gleefully. Her father was such a good man. A man of God. Sure he was mean to her sometimes, but that was all to ensure her ascension into Heaven when she died. She wouldn't end up like her mother!_ _She wouldn't end up as some drunken town whore who lay down with any man for a few bucks. Her father was right! She was going to die the way she lived and ended up burning in Hell!_ _And that was just something that she had no intention of doing! She just wouldn't!_

_Roughly pushing the thoughts of her mother out of her head, the girl tried to return her attention to her homework. But a low knock at her door interrupted that still-forming concentration. Sighing lightly, she set the pencil down and turned toward the door, uttering, "Come in."_

_The door opened slowly, and the heavily worn but smiling face of her father poked into her room. Seeing him brought a wide grin to her own. For a moment, she thought that it was going to be one of her useless classmates at school coming over for a visit. Especially that trendy witch of a girl who _always_ seemed to be hovering around her. That one was on a one-way trip to Hell with the way she acted half the time!_ _Why she decided to make friends with her was beyond reason!_ _But not everyone at the school was like her. In fact, there was one who she would _never _mind visiting; a boy she had known since they were little. One who seemed to like her as much as she liked him. He had been the one standing across the street that day and…_

"_So," her father asked merrily, bringing a quick end to her blossoming daydream. "How's my pretty little bookworm doing this evening? Are you almost done? I've just made some popcorn and I know that movie you like is coming on tonight. I figured that we could watch it together, a father and daughter movie night. What do you say?"_

_The girl shifted joyfully in her chair, wide grin broadening into a beaming smile. Oh how she loved her father!_ _All of the time he spent with her!_ _Helping her with her schoolwork!_ _Even keeping her on the right path with stern and sometimes painful punishments!_ _It hurt when he had to discipline her, but it didn't matter. He could do no wrong in her eyes. He was a man of God!_ _He was perfect!_ _He was what every father _should_ be!_ _She was so lucky!_ _She had the perfect life!_ _And nothing could ever ruin it!_

"_Just another minute or two, Daddy," she said enthusiastically, turning back to her open textbook and picking up the pencil. "Then I'll be right down!_"

_**-o-**_

A lone tear ran down from the corner of the woman's eye. The smooth skin of her face was so worry-worn and flustered that it made her countenance appear much older than her twenty-eight years would lead people to believe. Her hands clenched tautly at the heavy overcoat, pulling at the coarse fabric so hard that she could hear her knuckles creaking from the strain. She could feel the familiar feeling of heaviness in her chest that came from weeping. The tears in her eyes began to build and her mouth quivered mildly. The realization of a childhood lost and a horrid revelation to come rained nothing but sadness down upon her already overburdened heart.

"B-But," she began again after taking a deep, shuddering breath. "A-As much…as much as I loved him, I soon came to…to realize the t-true reason w-why I…I did."

The woman's bright blue eyes widened.

"Y-You see, Father, the p-pain…the pain it…it was the pain… I-I came…I came to love…to love the pain, too."

Her heart pounded loudly in her chest.

"The p-pain of my f-father's punishments…they…they filled me w-with…with such a wonderful…a w-wonderful…f-feeling…"

Her mind whirled at the thought, the woman's breath becoming heavier with each intake of air. Then realization dawned. She was losing herself again.

"And I…I…I couldn't h-help…I c-couldn't help myself. I j-just couldn't! I-I…I became…I became…a…sinner…"

Right then, the woman's shadow-shrouded face twisted up into a wounded look full of both misery and anger. "Don't you understand, Father?" she questioned in a shaky, broken voice that quickly perverted into a loud holler. "I became a sinner! _A SINNER!_"

_**-o-**_

_The hard slap of her father echoed throughout the room. The girl fell to her knees from the force of its impact. She had sinned again. It had not been that big of a sin to her, but it was a sin nonetheless. And sin would lead her to Hell. That's what was going to happen to her mother when she finally died. That's what her father had told her. And he was always right. He was a man of God, afterall. How could _he_ be wrong?_

_Almost seeming to tower over her, the girl's father glared down at her with hard eyes. "What have I told you about that boy!_" _he shouted roughly. "What did I tell you about _any_ kind of boy?"_

_The girl stared up with pleading eyes. But the look that was in them did not represent the twisted urge that burned in her heart. Sin boiled within. Sin that was pleasure. Pleasure that was… She didn't _want_ to go to Hell. But she could not resist, she could not turn it away. She loved her father. But she...loved what was boiling within as well._

"_B-But Daddy," she began with quiet hesitation, raising a hand up to the reddened skin on the side of her face. She resisted the desire to press her fingers into that tender flesh. "H-He was…he was just w-walking me h-home. N-Nothing…nothing was going t-to happen, it was just – "_

_Her father's hand lashed out again, the back of it striking rudely against the left side of her face. A hot sensation of pain raced out from her reddening cheek and burned its way throughout her entire body. She tried not to shudder. She tried not to think about… But how could she not? Besides, her father had told her something; something that had made it easier for her to begin to enjoy what she had so long denied herself. He had told her that the Lord Almighty forgave ALL sins!_ _All she had to do was confess them to Him and she would be absolved of everything she had done wrong!_ _That was it!_ _That was all she had to do!_ _She wouldn't go to Hell for any of what she had done!_ _She could sin all she wanted!_

"_SHUT UP!_" _her father had screamed as he rubbed the back of his hand angrily. "Just shut up!_ _That boy is nothing but trouble for you!_ _All he's doing is sniffing around, looking to put you on your back!_ _Are you so stupid that you can't see that!__Or is it that you _want_ to be a whore…just like your damnable mother!_ _Do you _want_ to be a sinner!_ _Do you _want_ to go to Hell!_"

_The girl frowned up at her father with eyes that feigned fright, but deep inside…she _knew _the truth. She _was_ a sinner!_ _But that sin could be erased!_ _That sin could be absolved!_ _All she had to do was confess!_ _All she had to was beg for forgiveness from her God!_ _And all of this she knew because of her father. Because _he_ was a good man. A man of God. A man that could do no wrong._

_**-o-**_

The woman's distraught face was streaked with tears. Memories of the realization burned into her heart ruthlessly. The lie had allowed her to justify her continuance of that foul sin. Why had she not tried to stop herself? Why did she give in so easily? The pain. It was so…powerful. The feeling…it was beyond anything that she had felt before. Even basking in the glory of her God in Heaven seemed to pale in comparison. How could she _not_ give in?

A stern voice coming from the other side of the partition startled her.

"It sounds as though your father was a good man, my daughter. A true man of God and honorable to His Commandments. How could you disgrace him in such a vile manner?"

The woman in the trenchcoat raised a trembling hand from her lap and wiped at the tears in her eyes with the back of it. "B-Because…because I-I knew…I knew that f-forgiveness was just o-one confession away…t-that's how. A-And I also k-knew that because…that because my f-father was such a...a g-good man, that h-he would pray f-for me. I-I believed in h-him…I…I trusted i-in his wisdom, in his strength of will, in his...his f-faith…" The woman paused and then looked down into her lap vacantly. The tears forming in her eyes again blurred her vision. Truth was always a painful thing to face, even if you had already come to terms with it.

"But," the shadowy figure on the other side of the partition pushed gently.

The pale-skinned woman's hands again clenched at her dark coat, knuckles stretching tight against the thin flesh on the back of them. Memories glittered dully in her mind, memories that she didn't want to recall. Memories that she had pushed back until…until tonight. Why had everything come back _tonight_ of all nights? She raised her head and looked through the mesh partition at the dark face on the other side of it.

"H-He…"

"Yes, he did what?"

"He…lied."

"He lied?"

"Yes."

"About what, my child?"

"About…everything…"

"Everything?"

"Yes."

"He wasn't a man of God?"

"No."

"He wasn't a good man?"

"No."

"How did it make you feel when you found out?"

"Relieved."

"Relieved?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it made me realize something."

"What?"

"That if I wanted to be saved, I had to give myself over to God completely and without question."

"Because?"

"Because He was the only truth, He was the only…good."

"Not your father? The man that you had devoted your _entire_ life too?"

"No…_not_ my father…"

_**-o-**_

_For the second time that night, she turned her head away from the boy who had stolen her heart so long ago. He had done his job. That familiar dampness between her legs was proof enough of that. Unfortunately for her, it hadn't been enough for him._

"_What's wrong," he questioned gently, running his long fingers through her hair absently._

"_Nothing," she lied._

_But wasn't lying a sin? Inwardly, she felt herself smile. Of course it was, but she could absolve it. She could get rid of it. All she had to do was confess and she would be free again. Beside her, she could feel the boy's hands working their way up her thigh again. She could almost hear herself sigh in exasperation. He would never learn._

"_Look," she began, placing her own hand on top of his lightly. "I do like you, but I…I just can't."_

_The boy's hand stopped suddenly and his voice grew cold as he replied._

"_Can't," he whispered with hard words. "Or won't? Dammit, what do I have to do to prove to you that I won't hurt you?"_

_She could feel a familiar sensation creep into her heart. Didn't want to hurt her? She almost laughed at that. She _wanted_ him to hurt her! She had wanted him to hurt her more than he had just then! What he had done to her was only the beginning of what she _truly_ wanted. What she truly craved. She wanted him to make her feel…feel that indescribable pleasure that she had when she was still a little girl. Afterall, it was okay for her to feel such things. She wouldn't go to Hell. Not now. All she had to do was confess her sins and she would be free! It was what her father had told her when she was younger. He was still a good man. A man of God. A man who could do no wrong._

"_I know you won't," she replied, lifting herself from the hastily lain out blanket and pausing to search around for her sandals. At the same time, she pulled her dress back around her legs from its former place on her upper thighs. The skin there was marred with dull, blue-black, finger-shaped marks. "But, I just can't…not right now. It's just too…too soon for us to be doing something like that."_

_The boy pulled himself up from the blanket and gazed up at her with annoyed eyes. It made her want to sigh out loud. He was really making this more difficult than it already was. Perhaps her father had been right about him afterall. She heard a small voice inside her head begin to laugh. Of course he had been right about the boy sitting before her! The only thing that seemed to be on his mind _was_ putting her on her back. Nothing more, nothing less. Sex was all _he_ wanted. Just like her father had said so long ago! Such a good man he was! A man of God! A man who could do no wrong! A man she truly loved with all her heart!_

"_You weren't acting like that a few minutes ago," he pushed in a leering voice. "You were just as into it as I was! Moaning and groaning every time I bit you on the shoulder or dug my fingers into your thighs! All you could do was whisper for me to do it harder! I know that you were getting just as turned on as I was! And then, just like that, you pull this shit! What's your fucking deal?"_

_Finding her sandals and slipping them back on her feet with ease, she regarded the boy with a casually raised eyebrow._

"_I was _in_ the mood," she began, standing. "But then, I realized that I was _supposed_ to be home about an hour ago. You know, that was when choir practice was _supposed_ to end. And you know as well as I do how my Dad is going to react when I show up late. I'll…I'll have to lie to him again."_

_Before her, the boy's expression changed somewhat at the mention of her father. Just as she had expected it to. Afterall, she knew how he felt about her dad, how he feared the man. It was the same trump card she always played when he started to push for something that she wasn't ready for. Something that she truly had no interest in. It was the same trump card he _always_ fell for. Besides, it was the pain she was interested in, not the boy or what he wanted to do to her. The pain was all that mattered. He was just a means to an end._

"_Alright," he uttered disappointedly, pushing himself up to his feet and pausing long enough to slip them into a pair of cheap flip-flops. "Alright, I get it. You've gotta go. Because of him. Man, this really sucks! I was already and everything tonight! You know, eventually, I'm gonna get you to give in!"_

_She just gave him a happy grin that was nothing but a total lie. Her? Give in to him? Become a whore like her mother? Not likely! She'd rather go to Hell than end up like that woman! Wasn't she pregnant or something now? What a tramp!_

"_Oh," she began before rising on her toes to kiss him on the cheek lightly. "I know I will. Besides, you know that you're the one I want to be with. Right?"_

_The grin that emerged on the boy's face set off that rumbling laughter in the back of her head again. The poor teen just knew that _some_ day he'd be getting in between her legs! How was she keeping a straight face? How was she keeping from laughing in his face and telling him the truth of their 'relationship'? He was only there to give her what _she_ wanted, not the other way around! And that wasn't going to change no matter how much he wanted it to!_

"_Yeah," he replied with a smile as he moved away from her and stepped off the blanket. Kneeling down, he began to fold it up as neatly as he could manage. "I know. I guess I can wait a bit longer. It shouldn't hurt. Afterall, we're only juniors in school. We still have what's left of this year and all of the next. Between now and then, I'm sure you'll be ready."_

_The girl just nodded her head and grinned back at him. Oh yeah, she'd be ready all right. Ready to leave him and find someone else who'd be rougher with her. All she wanted was the pain. Not the sex. She could care less about the sex. The pain was all that mattered. And the boy in front of her, no matter how much she truly _did_ love him, was too tenderhearted to do the things that _she_ wanted done to her body. All the more reason for her to get rid of him as soon as she could._

"_Yeah," she lied again. "I'm sure I will be."_

_With that being said, silence fell between them as they gathered the last few things that they had brought with them and returned the items to his truck. It only took a few minutes to place everything in the bed of the beaten up old vehicle. Once that was done, she hopped into the cab along with the teenager and strapped herself in with the seatbelt. In less than a minute, he had started the engine and threw the unwieldy vehicle into gear. And with that, he pulled out of the park and followed the dully-lit path that led back out onto the street._

_As she gave the boy a brief smile, which of course led to a kiss on the lips from him, the girl thought quickly of the lie she had concealed from him. Her father wasn't at home. He was out with his church group. In truth, she wouldn't be late at all. He always got home late and when he did, immediately went up to his room to go to sleep. He wouldn't _really_ check on her until he woke up the next morning. And by that time, she would have already been in her bed – just waking up with the morning sun. Much like him._

_It was for that reason she could stay out late like she did and have her fun. Fun that she could easily cleanse away by confessing her sins at church. Unlike her mother, she would not be going to Hell when she died. Heaven awaited her. The untold glory of the Lord Almighty. A place for her had already been set. Her father had told her as much. Such a good man. A man of God. A man who could do no wrong._

_The slight lurching of the truck broke her away from her thoughts. Turning her head to the boy and blinking uncertainly at him for a second or two, she gave him a questioning look._

"_We're here," he stated abruptly, placing the idling vehicle into park. "You know, you're house. Where your father is. The man who will kick the shit out of my ass if her sees me sitting here with his daughter in my truck? Ringing any bells? Getting any hints yet?"_

_The girl quickly pulled herself back to awareness and gave the boy a playful expression._

"_Yeah," she responded as she gripped his hand in her own and gave it a light squeeze. "I know. I'm going. Wouldn't want my Dad to think that I'm doing something unholy in here with you or anything. See you at school tomorrow?"_

_The boy's beaming smile was more than answer enough for her question._

"_You know it."_

_She lied a grin back at him._

"_I love you."_

_He softened his voice and lowered his eyes into a caring expression that looked oh so wrong on his narrow face._

"_Love you too."_

_Pulling her hand away from his, she undid her seatbelt and opened the passenger side door. Slipping out as quickly as she could manage, she gave him another short wave and set off to the front porch of the house. Behind her, she could hear his truck grinding into gear and then quickly pull away from her house. It brought a glimmer of a smile to her face. The poor boy really had thought that her father was home, just because his car was sitting in the driveway. But she knew better. He never took the car to his church meetings, he always caught a ride with one of the members of his congregation. That's the way it had always been._

_At least, it had been until tonight._

_She just stood there for a moment, an odd look quirking her face. There was _another_ car sitting in the driveway, not just his. Her heart almost leapt into her throat. He…he was home already! But why? Why tonight of all nights? Trying to calm her rapidly beating heart, the girl approached the porch of her house apprehensively. What was her father doing home so early? And who was here with him. He never brought anyone else back to the house, for conversation, coffee or otherwise. He had always been a rather solitary man in her view, especially after her whore of a mother had done all those terrible things to him. The only company he had ever needed, he had ever wanted was her – his only daughter._

_Silently tipping her way onto the porch, she slowly began to fish through her purse for her house keys. As she did so, something else caught her attention. The porchlight was off. In fact, the entire house was dark for some odd reason. But why was that? If her father was entertaining guests, then wouldn't at least the living room light be on? What was going on?_

_Finding her keys in short order, the girl hesitantly positioned them before the doorknob. Her hand shook nervously, but not for the reason she had been expecting. Something was wrong. She could feel it. Something was not right inside, but what? What could be so wrong in the house that it had her too nervous to open the door? How could anything be that wrong? It wasn't her mother in the house, it was her father. And he was a good man. A man of God. A man who could do no wrong. So what did she truly have to be worried about?_

_Forcing a reassuring smile on her face, the girl push the key into the door lock and turned it confidently. Everything would be alright. He was her father, someone whom she would always be able to trust without question. What did she have to worried about? Pulling it out after unlocking the door, she pushed it open and stepped into the darkness of the house. When she did, she heard a low moan, then a heavy gasp. He must've fallen asleep waiting up for her. He was such a good man – such a good father. How could she ever think low of him? He was _nothing_ like her mother._

"_I'm sorry I'm so late Dad," she began apologetically as she turned on the living room light and pulled the door shut behind her. He mind worked quickly to prepare the lie that she had set up as a contingency in case she ever found him at home after spending the out. "But choir practice ran over a bit longer than I thought it would and…and…an –"_

_Her voice trailed off, then stopped abruptly when she realized what she had walked in on. Her mind refused to believe what her eyes were showing it. Her mouth was as dry as a desert. Her heart was pounding hard in both her chest and her ears. What was this? WHAT WAS THIS! Her lips tried to work out the words that seemed trapped in her throat. But all she heard was silence. Silence. All of a sudden realization dawned and it hit her like a ton of bricks._

_The words in her lodged in her throat were forgotten. Instead, her piercing scream echoed out rudely into the night._

_**-o-**_

"He was having sex with some other woman?"

"Y-Yes."

"And you heard it...saw it?"

She winced inwardly, remembering how her father's sinning had been exposed to her in full after she had come home late one night. Why had he done it? Why couldn't he stay the good man she had always believed him to be? The woman's hand was clenching the trenchcoat's fabric so hard that it was beginning to hurt. A familiar feeling raced through her body. She tried to ignore it. Tried to force it away.

"Y-Yes Father, I...I did... I-I learned the t-truth...I learned the t-truth that night...about my father..."

"You learned that he wasn't as saintly as you thought he was? You found out that he was more of a sinner than you or you're mother had ever been, didn't you?"

The woman looked down at her shadow-shrouded lap. The memories of that night scratched harshly at her mind. Her hand clenched the overcoat she had on even harder than before. Her balled fist instinctively grinding into her thigh. Pain. Sin. Pleasure. Forgiveness. Which did she truly want? Which did she truly crave? That night had opened her up to all four.

"Y-Yes Father," she replied breathily. She could feel a growing...sensation throbbing hotly between her legs. She pushed it away roughly. "I...I did..."

"And it forced you into God's waiting arms, didn't it? Made you realize beyond a shadow of a doubt that He was the only good in your life. Pushed you into a life that made you live in His hallowed name, forced you to hide the truth of what you knew yourself to be. Forced you to hide away from the sin that crept along in your heart; to hide away from that aching lust for pain that granted you such pleasure...such release..."

The pale woman's eyes widened in shock. Her sweat-soaked hand that was gripping at the coat covering her thighs slackened absently. What...what had the Father said? Did... It couldn't have been... It was... It was _unthinkable_...

"W-What...What d-did you just...what did you say," she uttered out weakly.

The face on the other side of the partition smiled at her. A wicked, lustful smile. A demonic smile that she felt in the core of her very being.

_(The face on the other side of the partition gaze at her worriedly, aged and dark eyes probing for a reason to the odd question coming from the woman's mouth.)_

"You know what I just said, you stupid tramp," the voice stated bitterly, growing husky and heated at the same time. Fear raced through the woman's mind. That voice! She knew it! It haunted her from the shadows of her past. It...it reminded her of her...her _father!_ "You forced yourself into a life that hid you from the truth of who and what you were! You sought to hide in God's Light in an effort to burn away the dark stains of your sin! You sought out His forgiveness only to continue your own debased and perverted acts! To satisfy that twisted, ungodly lust inside of you! Isn't that the truth! _ISN'T IT!_"

_("Are you okay, my child," the elderly man questioned from behind the mesh separator in a concerned voice that the woman seemed to find distressing.)_

The woman stared wide-eyed at the partition. Tears streamed down her face. Terror marred her already haggarded visage. Slowly, she could feel herself pushing deeper and deeper into the thinly cushioned seat of the confessional booth in an effort to escape the harsh words coming from the other side of the mesh screen. She could not speak. She could hardly move. What in the world was going on? Why was this happening to her? Was she...was she losing her mind?

"No...I... It w-wasn't like... I-I mean...I didn't... T-That wasn't w-why... That wasn't...t-that wasn't the reason..." she stammered in an absent murmur that could hardly be heard.

That mocking face on the other side of the partition laughed out throatily.

"Poor, misguided Sister Rachel," the voice whispered condescendingly. It seemed to be enjoying the torment it was heaping upon the dark-haired woman. "So trapped between two worlds that she is becoming lost to both. Who are you? Which one defines you? Are you the heavenly nun devoted only to the life that God lays out before you? Or are you that pain-slut who howls, moans and begs to be whipped every night at that goth club? Oh yes, I _know _about that. It used to happen only once a month, didn't it? But then, you found yourself going every other weekend, and then _every _weekend. But it didn't stop there, did it Rachel? No, it didn't. Soon, you were going almost every night _other _than Sunday, being beaten on a regular basis and enjoying the sin in your soul; only to come into your church to stand before the judgment of your God, and tell Him of your perversions so that He could forgive you so you could go back out and do it all again with a clear conscience. Am I right? Well, _am I!_"

_(Father Richards wore a look of complete confusion upon his face as he moved toward the partition with an uneasy expression emerging slowly._

"_Listen to me," he began calmly, trying his best to soothe the troubled woman across from him. "Take a deep breath. Relax. Try to - ")_

In a flurry of frantic movement, Rachel Shelby turned from the mesh screen before her and clawed at the lock to the confessional door. Her face was the very essence of denial, fear and madness all rolled into one. She cried. She screamed. She cursed for the door to open and let her out. She just wanted to get away from the creature that was on the other side of the partition. She just wanted to be free of everything that burdened her. She just wanted to be free!

Finally, Rachel managed to slide the lock and latch aside and push the thin door open. She practically leapt out of the booth, trying to escape the mocking laughter that was following her out. In a fit of rage, she grabbed hold of the door and slammed it shut, shouting, "_SHUTUP!__YOU'RE WRONG!_ _YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME!_"

She emphasized each word with a slam of the confessional door, until it began to break apart and splinter. Her heart was pounding loud in her ears _just like on that night she had discovered her father's sin!_ Tears and sweat stained her face _just like earlier in the evening when she was at the mercy of her 'Mistress'!_ She screamed and begged _just like she had when 'Mistress's' master had commanded her to!_ She looked up at the shadow of the cross to her left _just like she always did after she had confessed her sins to her Lord God Almighty._ She grabbed the door again to -

Another hand grabbed her own and spun her around viciously. And Rachel came face to face with...herself.

"You're wrong," the other her laughed out as she adjusted her habit with one hand. "I know _everything _there is to know about you! Afterall, you've confess your sins to me often enough..._Beauty!_"

_(Chasing after the woman, Father Richards pushed open the door to his section of the confessional and exited. When he stepped out, she was there in front of him; frantically and angrily slamming the door to her side of the booth until it began to break apart. Seized more with concern for her well being than fear, he reached out and grabbed her arm firmly and gently pulled her around to face him. And his eyes widened when that face was exposed to him._

"_R-Rachel? S-Sister Rachel?" he stammered out the question rudely. "My Lord in Heaven, h-has...has it been _you _all this time ? Have you been the one begging for forgiveness for those...those...acts? Please tell me that it isn't. Please tell me that I'm wrong. Please Rachel, talk to me. Let me help you if I can.")_

Rachel shook her head in outright fear and astonishment as she yanked her arm away from the other her's loose grip, then backpedaled away from the horrid mirror of herself in stunned disbelief. _But...But how? This can't...this _can't _be happening!_

The dark shadow of herself seemed to muse for a moment, then raised a lithe hand to her mouth and giggled out behind it.

"Oh," the other Rachel said as the laughter rode along her hard voice carelessly, "it's happening alright. And from here on out, it's just going to get worse for you, _Beauty!_ But don't worry, as much as _you _get off to someone beating your ass...you're probably going to _enjoy _this!"

_(Father Richards was too stunned to move after her. He just could not believe what he was seeing. The most loving, devoted and stable nun in his entire clergy reduced to...to...this?_ _What had happened to her? How could he have not seen this? How could God not have given him the foresight to know the troubles that assaulted her? What was wrong with her and how could he help her if she kept running away from him?_

"_Listen to me Rachel," he began quietly, doing what he could to keep his own voice from shaking anymore than it already did. But his mind raced. She was the poor unfortunate soul that he prayed for every night? She was the one who felt that she was beginning to lose herself to that...how had she put it...that _other _side? But, what did she mean by that? "You're sick and you need help. I can't offer that if you don't calm down and give me the chance. Please..." he paused only for a second as he raised his hand toward her, "...take my hand and let the Power of the Lord Almighty guide you to the peace of mind you desire. Please, Sister Rachel. Take my hand."_

_Father Richards took a tenuous step forward, and then another...and another...)_

Without saying another word, or giving her the chance to react, the habit-clad Rachel leapt toward the one wearing the trenchcoat. She tried to turn and run, but her dark shadow dragged her down to the floor and clawed at the overcoat viciously.

"NO...STOP...PLEASE...DON'T," Rachel screamed as she tried to knock away the other woman's hands after she'd been turned over onto her back.

But the other woman ignored her desperate pleas with laughter so cruel it made her seem to be the Devil himself.

"What, oh what are you trying to hide under this coat, dearest _Beauty_?" the creature shaped like her called out in sarcastic tones that made more tears well up in her blue eyes. "What, oh what indeed! Let's just have a look, shall we? Stop moving around, will you! What? Do you want me to hit you or something...oh right, wait a minute..._YOU DO!_"

And that was all it took for the other her to pull back her left arm and bring it down hard across the trenchcoated Rachel's face. The slap was so full, so powerful that the woman on her back saw colored spots dancing before eyes afterward. The pain that burned in her cheek sent wave after wave of ecstasy rolling through her. She tried to resist. She tried to push it away. But she couldn't. Her body was already conditioned to accept the pain from earlier in the evening. To her horror, Rachel heard herself moaning in pleasure. Her eyes widened fearfully. What was she _doing!_ She compressed her lips tightly, doing whatever it took to keep anymore from escaping her mouth. Staring back up at her other self in a mild daze, she did what she could in an effort to slap at the habit-clad woman's hands as they tugged and pulled at her overcoat. But it was much harder to do now. The pain - the lust for it - drew the strength from her arms. Her heart raced with an icy fear edged with a hot desire to be hit again. It took what remained of her willpower to block it all from her weary mind. And above her trembling form, the expression on the woman's face was as delighted as it was hard.

"Why do you continue to lie to yourself," the other Rachel laughed out bitterly. She had finally managed to get her hands under the coat and was now rising from the ground to tear it away from her body. Was she even _trying _to stop her other self anymore? "Why do you continue to live a false life that you damn well know isn't real? Are you just stupid? Or did Daddy put the fear of God and just about everything else into you when you were so luvvy-duvvy with him? _AH-HA!_ Got it!"

With that bold and joyous declaration, Rachel the Nun yanked the overcoat from the Pain-Addict's body and twirled it around in the air victoriously. Rachel the Pain-Addict did what she could to cover herself while the terror of realization was slowly dawning on her tear-streaked face. The blood seemed to drain from it and a look of utter mortification marred her less than smooth features as she gazed down at herself. Beneath the coat, she had been wearing almost nothing - a pair of expensive black stiletto heels, a leather g-string and a tight, leather corset that wasn't fully tied down and now hung loosely enough to expose the perky, pink nipples of her breasts. The fullness of her sin was not only exposed to herself, but to the Church and the eyes of the Almighty Himself. Instinctively, Rachel the Pain-Addict wrapped her arms around her body protectively and hefted herself from the floor of the church as the other Rachel pointed a stiff finger at her and laughed even louder than before.

"Well, well _Beauty_," the cruel version of herself mocked, "you're looking mighty slutty tonight! How about a smack across that freshly whipped back of your's for old-time's sake, huh? You _know _that you'd enjoy it! Why don't you just give in to it? Everything would be easier if you just accepted the truth and gave up this stupid nun-sense...ha-ha-ha-ha...get it? _Nun_-sense? Oh, I just _have _to remember that one! Hey...wait, I'm not finished with you yet! _Come back here!_"

_(He could not believe what he was witnessing!_ _Even though he was seeing it with his own eyes, Father Richards could not bring himself to believe it!_ _One moment, he was taking careful steps toward the troubled Sister, the next she had turned to run away from him only to _throw _herself forward onto the hard, wooden floor!__She actually threw herself down!_ _He had seen it with his own eyes!_ _But that had not been the end of it._

_After she had flung herself down to the ground, she began to scream out curses at herself only to holler right back as if she were carrying on some sort of argument with someone that Father Richards could not see. If only that had been all she had done, he might not have been feeling as sick in the pit of his stomach as he was right now. Because before, during and after the mad conversation with herself, Sister Rachel - one of the kindest and most modest women that he knew - began to struggle with her overcoat; half of a mind to remove it, half of a mind to keep on her body. And all throughout, she was cursing and screaming like a drunken sailor on shore leave. He had almost opened his mouth to say something, but then it happened - something that left it hanging wide open in the beginnings of another plea to her._

_In one of the strangest and most terrifying things that he had ever witnessed in his forty years as a man of God, he watched with horrified eyes as a woman he had known to be one of the most peaceful and non-violent people that he had ever met raised an arm and slapped herself so hard that it made him wince. He could not believe it!__She was hitting herself!_ _She was fighting herself!_ _She was screaming and arguing with herself!_ _And that was not even the worst of it!_

_Father Richards almost found himself gagging on non-existent vomit as he heard her moan in what could only be described as absolute and complete ecstasy. Ecstasy!_ _She had slapped herself hard enough to leave not a welt, but a bruise...and she was...was getting _excited _by it!_ _He was frozen where he stood. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to help her. Not anymore. Not with whatever demon that was possessing the poor woman in such total control. So he did the only thing he could do for her._

_He began to pray._

_Low at first, the words coming from his dried lips a mere whisper. But soon, he raised his voice to match the crude words and the teary pleas coming from the woman writhing on the ground before him. She begged and pleaded. He prayed to the Lord Almighty. She screamed and cursed. He intermingled the few words of exorcism that he knew into his prayers. If he couldn't help Rachel physically, he would help and strengthen her spiritually. He was a man of God. A vessel unto the Holy Light of the Lord Almighty. He had already seen the worst of it, the worst of the vicious demon that was assaulting this woman of purity and holiness. There was nothing more that -_

_Father Richards' praying stopped in midsentence. His mouth hung open, not moving one bit to either close it or utter more prayers. His eyes were agape in horrific astonishment that belied the sickening nausea that boiled in his stomach. Rachel, dear sweet Sister Rachel - a woman that he had schooled personally in the ways of the Lord and praised for her dedication to His will and service - had finally managed to remove her overcoat and was twirling it around in the air in one hand like a Las Vegas showgirl, while the other groped at in an effort to get it back. And what lay beneath it brought a demon of his own up from his lurching stomach and out of his trembling, still-open mouth.)_

While the other her had been ranting, Rachel had kicked off her heels and turned to face down the aisle; then she rose from the floor and took off in a mad sprint for the door leading out of the church and into the darkness of North Portland. Her mind was gone. All she could feel was utter and complete fear and terror. She was crying. She was wailing into the stale air of the church. Her mind was begging for forgiveness. Her heart was pounding relentlessly in her exposed chest. And in the back of her ailing mind, a feeling - a sensation - she could hardly believe. Her body was craving more pain, aching for it! At that, she screamed and screamed.

"You can't run from _me_, little girl!" Rachel the Nun yelled out behind her as she folded her black-robed arms across her chest lazily and smiled wryly, stepping over the other her's discarded trenchcoat. "Just _remember _that! You can't _ever _run from me!"

_**-o-**_

The heavy, double-doors of the church flew open and Rachel ran down the steps, bare feet slapping loudly against the rough concrete. Her mind was empty of any other thought except fleeing from the church. Fleeing from her! She had to get away! She had to run! She had to escape! She had to -

Rachel cried out as her ankle twisted sharply and she fell. Striking the crude stairs hard enough to break skin, she rolled none to kindly the rest of the way down to flat pavement at its base. She landed in a heap, arms and legs bruised, scraped and bleeding. Her mind was alight with pain. Nothing but pain! It ran through every inch of her body! It caressed her like a lover in the throes of passion.

_You can't run from _me_, little girl!_

Every muscle and bone in her body ached, some hurting more than the others. But all of it brought a hot sensation of exhilaration to her battered body. She could feel her lips parting lustfully. She could feel the ecstasy growing between her legs. It frightened her. It made her want to cry again. Why could she not escape! Why could she not get away!

_Just_ remember _that!_ _You can't _ever _run from me!_

The snap in her over-burdened mind was almost audible. Rachel's cracked and bloody lips worked themselves into a sick and mad grin. The pain had at last consumed what remained of her will as well as her body. The sticky wetness between her legs was proof enough of that. But there was something else that had dawned on her. A realization. It forced a bitter, but sensual laugh from her broken form. She understood! At last, she understood! It all made sense to her! Everything that had happened! And even though some doubt remained within her broken mind, she was beginning to accept the truth. All of it had happened for a reason! That was the answer! It had been to make her realize that she was…was -

The muted _skitching _sound of approaching rollerblades made her raise her head as best she could. The pain was indescribable. It sent waves of pleasure throughout her body that she didn't even try to deny. Her vision was blurry, but she thought that she could make out the approaching form of a...a boy? Something long and golden glinted dully in his right hand; something bent like her mind and body. But what was it?

The boy on golden rollerblades smiled broadly as he skidded to a halt just in front of her and looked down curiously. Rachel gazed up into his face and saw -

He lifted his golden bat - that's what it had been! - and swung it down hard on the back of Rachel's head with a sickening _crack_. Pain. Glorious pain raced throughout her already agony-lit body. It cleared what little doubt remained in her mind. She was free. She was free of everything! No more voices! No more God! No more struggling with herself! She had been delivered from the lie by...by...

"...W-Why...?" she asked weakly, unconsciousness closing on her in a fading, inky light. But there was no anger or remorse in the question. Only...relief.

The boy raised a hand to the rim of his red cap and lifted it up slightly. The pale and weak light from the nearby street lamps cast his face in a dull, almost otherworldy glow. But what lie beneath the cap's shadow didn't _belong _to a young boy. It belonged to a young girl. A broad smile stretched across her thin lips, bared teeth dully glimmering in the faint lamplight. Her bright indigo eyes seemed to be tinged heavily with gold, an eerie and menacing glow that would have filled the woman on the ground with fear if her mind weren't already blanketed with pain and the hot pleasure it brought her. But even through the ecstatic agony that ravaged her body lovingly, Rachel knew who the girl was.

"Because," she replied in a gruff, seemingly annoyed voice as she pulled her cap back down to shadow that ovular face once again, "His scent is all over you!"

Lifting the bent bat up to rest on her shoulder, the girl allowed the sourness in her voice earlier to subside. It instead took on a merrier tone, though heavily edged with overconfidence and conceit.

"I tracked that smell all the way back here," she said boyishly. "You reek of his stench. But don't worry, when I find him he'll definitely be sharing _your_ fate! He _will_ pay for his crimes!"

And with that, the girl turned and skated back the way she came, a jubilant giggle echoing through the vacant streets of North Portland. Soon, she was swallowed up by the dark gloom surrounding the church and Rachel herself. But her happy giggling remained behind, as much a sign of her appearance as it was a sign of recognition to the twisted figure sprawled at the base of the staircase leading up to the church. The broken and battered woman lying haphazardly on the ground smiled once more before finally succumbing fully to the painful reality that had been offered to her. She...was...free...

The wind kicked up suddenly and a paper flyer caught in it was thrown unknowingly against Rachel's unconscious, half-naked body. It read: "Come To Where Angels Can Release Their Inner Demon! Live S & M Show featuring Beauty! Live Bands! No Cover Charge! **'On Pain Of Sin!'** Come And Be Taught To Obey Your Master! Find Out Who You _Really _Are!"

_**oOo**_

Justine Mitchell stood next to the coffee machine, listening in utter boredom at the _clicks_ and _whirs_ coming from inside the archaic-looking apparatus. She heard herself sigh in resignation as the cup finally dropped and the rather thin coffee streamed hotly into it.

_Great,_ she grunted to herself as she reached down. _More diarrhea in a cup. Man, how could anything screw up making coffee?_ Pulling the cup from the rectangular alcove, she straightened carefully. But just before she could raise it up to her lips, a heavy voice called out her name.

"Sergeant Mitchell?"

Turning as quickly as she could without spilling the contents of the cup, Justine focused her tired eyes on the approaching unformed police officer.

"Yeah," she replied, poising the cup at the edge of her lips. "What is it?"

The uniformed officer stopped a few steps short of her and then spoke.

"Sergeant, I was told to inform you that we just got a new lead in the street assault case you've been working on."

Justine's eyes flashed open unexpectedly as she lowered the cup from her lips.

"A new lead? What _new_ lead?"

The policeman in front of her shifted slightly as he responded.

"A man came in earlier today with the claim that his child assaulted him with a blunt object."

"So? Lot's of kids have been doing that lately. Whole world's going crazy. Where've you been?"

"The object in question was a bat that he claimed was bent at a forty-five degree angle near its end. He also claimed, when asked, that she possessed a pair of inline skates. They were gold in color."

Justine's eyes widened and the cup of coffee in her hand slipped free and fell to the floor.

* * *

_As the opening chords of Susumu Hirasawa's _**Sub Usual**_ begins, we can see the faces of all the main characters of _**PARANOIA AGENT: 2ND VISIT**_ being shown in tune with the music. As the tempo and beat of the music changes, the camera pulls back to show that they are all walking around in a circle with dazed expressions on their faces. They are walking around six chairs. There are seven of them. Apparently, they are involved in a game of Musical Chairs. As the beat of the music changes, the seven of them rush for the chairs. Only one is left standing and Lil' Slugger comes out of nowhere and whacks the person a good one, knocking them out and to the ground. Then like an old movie reel, the scene seems to skip and repeats itself, only this time with five chairs and four people. The same thing keeps happening. They sit when the beat of the song changes and Lil' Slugger takes out the one who is still standing. It goes on like this until there's only one chair and two people left. As the looping musical track come to an end, the two of them are still circling the last chair with that same dazed expression while an impatient Lil' Slugger stands behind them with a big smile on his face, anxiously tapping his bat on his shoulder. The music stops and the last two characters rush for the chair. But before either of them reaches it, the screen fades to black…_

This unsettling closing montage was done to the music of **Susumu Hirasawa's** very freaky sounding **_Sub Usual_ **from the _Paranoia Agent OST_.

* * *

_**A television sitting in a lone circle of light flickers and comes alive with static. A moment later, the image clears to reveal a black-robed Maniwa, with tresses of white hair peeking out from under his hood, sitting behind a black-clothed table smiling. He raises his arms regally into the air and states grandly…**_

"…**THE NEW HOROSCOPES FOR TONIGHT ARE…"**

_**VIRGO!** You fall and you dream. You dream the dream of illusions. Illusions of a life unattained. The castle of glass has fallen to enigma and you find yourself in the valley of the gods. The blue skies greet you. The green hills surround you. There you find a goat and a horse. They lead you to a field littered with dozens upon dozens of butterflies. They beckon to you. They call out to you. But why can't you see them?_

_**SAGITTARIUS!** All paths lead inevitably back to the beginning. But do not despair! No one stays lost forever! The boar's path is always littered with such oddness. And the path that can go no further suddenly can! At its end, you find a scorpion's burrow. A victim of its golden stinger lies within. In a twist of a twist, you find yourself armed with the knowledge of the tracker's scent. The hunter instincts within you awaken! And the dog helps to open your eyes…_

_**SCORPIO!** The heroic warrior who wields the sword of vengeance! A pair of twin demons lie broken at your feet. But does not the world twitch and heave around you? Who are you again? Oh yes! You know who you are! You are a hunter of demons! You track the enemy unseen by the eyes of the world around! You hunt! You attack! Many of his minions have fallen to your sword of vengeance. But now, a new underling has been dispatched to deal with you! Can your hunt for the demon-king continue? Will the arrow from an archer stop you? Havoc increases and sanity recedes. The enemy must be stopped! And the golden sword falls…_

_**AQUARIUS!** In the pictures, a hidden past is revealed. In the pictures, a future truth is foretold. Who is this? What is your purpose? You sketch the world around you on a canvas of illusion. You are delusional. In a mirror behind you, the lord of dolls laughs. You walk in his shadow. You follow his tasks. But is that path truly yours to pursue? I wonder…_

_**PIECES!** You weave a world of lost dreams around you. And in it you see the sacred corridors of the healer's home, within which you find both a virgin and a kingfish. Unseen by others, the scales balance your heart and dull your mind. Where were you again? Across the sea of tears, the crow flies over the wheel with golden spokes. It caws at you. The spokes shimmer brightly and you feel the book of one grow warm in your hand. Snap! Connection! The burning one and the dreaming zero find one another! And in the shadows of a virgin's mind, an illusion gains form. The golden shoes glimmer…_

_**The television screen flickers once, twice and then abruptly shuts off.

* * *

**_

**Author's Notes & Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the world of Satoshi Kon's excellent Paranoia Agent. **But everything else, I DO own! LOL! Well, here it is. The last chapter of **_2nd Visit_** before I had stopped writing it. As with all the others, I have effecting some changes in the story and plot progression to match in better with what I'm trying to accomplish. In truth, this chapter really didn't see that much of a change as it was perhaps one of my best written one's yet. However, there is a major change in the chapter, which anyone who read the original will notice. But it was done for a good reason and I intend on using what was removed in a later chapter anyways. I must confess, this chapter was one of my favorites. Rachel Shelby was probably one of the better-written characters in this story so far. Her crisis of faith and subsequent fall into delusion came out very well in my eyes. My only regret is that I didn't flesh her out more in the previous chapter when she was speaking with Ashe. But, oh wells! Oh yeah, please give me a little feedback on whether or not you like the **_'Horoscope Prophecies'_**. I'm still a bit unsure as to whether or not they are doing the job I want them too. LOL! Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the rewrites and will stay with me for the never before seen chapters that will continue the story to its conclusion. Thanks for reading! And a very special thank you to my FAVORITE reviewer, TURMOIL! Glad you liked it! And, as always, I appreciate the awesome vote of confidence in my skills as a storyteller! Hey TURMOIL! Do you think the **_'Horoscope Prophecies'_** are too easy to decipher? Drop me an email or tell me in a review, okay? See you next chapter!

Laters!

Terryll Preston


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